The Red Rider
by MUFC4Life
Summary: Murtagh is sold as a slave by the King and forced to become a gladiator. As his fame rises in the gladiator arena he uses his position to exact revenge on Galbatorix.
1. Chapter 1: Mercy

**The Red Rider**

**Chapter one: Mercy**

All around Gil'ead the battle continued to rage. The bodies of dead men and elves littered the battlefield. In the midst of all this chaos stands a handsome young man with jet-black hair and pale skin, no older than nineteen, standing on the verge of plunging his blood red sword, Zar'roc, into the heart of the old Elfin Dragon Rider who lay helpless at his feet.

Murtagh Morzansson, the King's unwilling Red Rider, starred down at the old elf Oromis who lay on the blood-stained grass, waiting for the seemingly inevitable end. Only it didn't come. Murtagh knew he should just kill Oromis but the thought of killing this Rider, who was the only Rider of the Golden age left (except Galbatorix) seemed so wrong to him. As he hesitated Murtagh suddenly became strongly aware of his surroundings in a way that he wasn't before. He could smell the grass and blood that stained it. He could hear the cries of the battling armies around him. He could feel the breeze cooling the sweat on his face. He could see the resignation in Oromis's golden eyes and yet still he hesitated.

_I can't do it_, he told Thorn desperately. Thorn did not immediately reply as he was busy battling Oromis's large golden dragon Glaedr. Despite the magical growth Galbatorix had forced upon Thorn, Glaedr was still a great deal bigger and it took Thorn a moment to answer through their strong mental bond,

_I know, young one. I do not wish to kill them either. But what other choice do we have?_

_We could let them go. _Murtagh could not hold back the sudden rush of fear he felt as he said this and Thorn felt it. For a second Dragon and Rider contemplated what King Galbatorix would do to them when he discovered, not only that Oromis and Glaedr were still alive, but that they could have killed them and instead let them go.

Murtagh shook his head in an attempt to dislodge such terrifying thoughts.

_If I do kill them I'll be lost forever and no better than my Father,_ thought Murtagh. Silently making up their minds together, Murtagh lowered his sword and stepped away from Oromis, while at the same time Thorn disentangled himself from Glaedr and flew low towards his rider at great speed. Turning his back on Oromis, Murtagh grabbed hold of Thorns outstretched paw and climbed gracefully into the saddle. Murtagh didn't dare look back as Thorn flew them towards Uru'baen and whatever fate awaited them.

Back on the ground Oromis stood next to his dragon Glaedr as they starred curiously after the large red dragon and his troubled rider. For several moments they stood in silence until finally, when Murtagh and Thorn were out of sight, Glaedr asked,

_Why? _Oromis did not respond but Glaedr could feel his confusion and fear through their bond.

Finally he spoke, _I don't know why. But I pray that they will not suffer for their mercy. I want to help them, Glaedr, but alas I don't know how. _

_We will find a way;_ Glaedr said sending reassurance through their bond. But he could not hide the fear he felt on behalf of the Red Rider and his dragon.


	2. Chapter 2: Repercussions

**Chapter Two: Repercussions**

Murtagh and Thorn flew to Uru'baen in silence. Both were doing all they could to prepare themselves for the meeting with Galbatorix they knew they would have to endure. No doubt the King knew what they had done. King Galbatorix always got a full report from his Black Hand, who would mentally contact the King after every battle and tell him everything so any punishments could be delivered immediately.

It took two days for the bonded friends to reach Uru'baen. As the city came into view Murtagh felt a large feeling of dread settle in his stomach making him feel sick. Murtagh tried to distract himself from his dread by taking in the city that was now in full view. The capital of Alagaesia was the biggest city in the land with the streets lined with stone houses of varying sizes. The smaller buildings were at the edge of the city near the fortified ten foot wall that encircled the front of the city, with the forest covering the back of the city. The further into the city the bigger and grander the houses became. But all these buildings were dwarfed by the massive palace that loomed over the city with its towers and turrets. A formidable building that was encircled with beautiful gardens and a wide courtyard, it was here that Thorn landed.

Murtagh slipped gracefully from Thorn's back despite the heavy silver armour he wore over his black pants and red tunic. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Murtagh made his way through the huge front doors, Thorn at his side. In the palace forecourt they were met by a guard, who looked, in Murtagh's view, as though he would desperately like to be somewhere else.

"King Galbatorix is waiting for you in the Throne Room, Sir", the guard said giving Murtagh a nervous salute as he did so. Murtagh did not return the salute and simply gave a nod to show he understood. After putting a reassuring hand on Thorn's snout, they made their way down the dark corridors, passing the many tapestries that covered the walls. All depicted scenes of violence. Murtagh ignored them as he passed knowing the scenes they depicted would only make his nausea worse. When they reached the heart of the palace where the Throne Room was situated, Murtagh slowed down, wanting to put off seeing the King. Murtagh had all but stopped when Thorn gave him an encouraging nudge in the back.

Much too quickly for Murtagh's liking they found themselves in front of the enormous carved doors of the Throne Room. Taking a deep breath Murtagh and Thorn walked towards the doors with a confidence they did not feel and as they approached, the doors swung open of their own accord. As they walked slowly towards the dais that held a throne decorated with the bones of the many dragons the King had killed, Murtagh looked around the throne room, simply so he could put off looking at the tall, dark figure sat upon the throne. It was the biggest room in the palace and the vastness of it always made Murtagh feel small and insignificant. There were no windows instead the walls on either side were lined with torches that gave the room its light. On the far wall, behind the throne was a large map of Alagaesia that completely covered the wall.

Today, however, Murtagh couldn't see the map because lying in front of it and completely obscuring it from view was Shruikan, the King's massive black dragon, who appeared to be asleep, for now anyway.

Tearing his eyes away from Shruikan, Murtagh approached the dais steps and knelt before King Galbatorix, who sat impassive on his throne. He could feel the King's cold blood red eyes boring a hole into the back of his head but he did not dare stand or look up, instead he waited kneeling on the cold marble floor for the King to speak. Murtagh tried to control his fear but he wasn't succeeding, blood pounded in his ears, sweat pooled on his brow. Finally after what felt like hours, King Galbatorix spoke,

"Rise, Slave". Murtagh did as he was told and reluctantly raised his gaze to meet the King's. Galbatorix's eyes blazed with barely controlled rage as he watched his Rider stand. Murtagh went cold.

_He knows_, he whispered to Thorn, who sent strength and comfort to his rider and tried to keep him calm.

_We don't know that, young one. He may simply be furious over his armies defeat to the Elves_, Thorn pointed out. Murtagh tried to take comfort from his words but he couldn't rid himself of the feeling of dread he had carried from Gil'ead. Galbatorix's cold voice brought Murtagh out of his mind.

"Well, Murtagh, Son of Morzan, what am I going to do with you? Twice you could have captured Eragon and twice you let him go, and now you had another Rider at your mercy and instead of killing him as you should have, you let him go." Galbatorix's voice had risen with every word as he struggled to control his temper and Murtagh felt his stomach drop at his words. So the Black Hand had seen and he had told.

Before Murtagh could think up a convincing excuse, however, Galbatorix had ripped through his mental defences with a brutality and fury Murtagh had never felt before. It felt as if the King was slowly and violently ripping his mind apart, bit by bit. He tried to remain strong tor Thorn's sake but the pain of the King's vicious search through his memories was unbearable and Murtagh could not stop the scream that was ripped from his throat. He distantly heard Thorn roar with helpless rage. Murtagh knew his dragon could feel his pain but was powerless to help. All Thorn could do was watch and listen as his beloved Rider withered and screamed on the floor.

Just as Murtagh had become convinced that he would die from Galbatorix's brutal attack, the mental assault ended. Taking a few shaky breaths Murtagh looked up at the King, still sat on his throne. The King's elfin features were contorted by a look of utter disgust and loathing that was mirrored in his voice as he spoke,

"You have failed me one too many times, Slave. Your defiance has become most taxing and I will tolerate it no more."

"Are you going to kill me?" Murtagh whispered, not at all sure he wanted the answer. King Galbatorix seemed to consider his answer for a moment before letting out a tired sigh. Looking down at him the King gave Murtagh a gentle smile, all traces of anger seemingly gone. It was a smile that made Murtagh's blood run cold.

"No, Murtagh. In fact, I've already decided your punishment. It is waiting for you at Tornac's house. You are to report there immediately. Don't even think about avoiding it, it will be worse for Tornac if you do." The King spoke in a calm, friendly way and that, more than anything, scared Murtagh.

What was the King playing at? Why was he to be punished at Tornac's house? And what did he mean that it would be worse for Tornac if he avoided going? All these questions went through Murtagh's mind as he slowly and unsteadily got to his feet. The King had not left his position on the throne and was watching Murtagh with an evil gleam in his eyes that sent shivers of fear through Murtagh's body.

"I'd hurry if I was you. Oh and Thorn is to remain here, I wish to speak with him alone", Galbatorix said. Murtagh didn't move. Indecision tore at him. Instinct and the evil smile on the King's face told him Tornac was in trouble. Tornac was the closest thing to a parent Murtagh had ever known and he yearned to go to his aid. But at the same time he loathed the thought of leaving his dragon, his partner of heart and mind, alone with the mad King.

_Do not worry about me, young one. Galbatorix has never physically harmed me before and I don't think he will start now. Go to Tornac, he needs you and you need him. _Thorn sent soothing feelings along with his words. Reluctantly Murtagh nodded and ran out of the throne room, ignoring the strange looks from the guards as he ran past.


	3. Chapter 3: Oath

**Chapter Three: Oath**

Tornac lived in a small two bedroom house just inside the palace grounds. Murtagh ran all the way and tried to work out what Galbatorix was up to. He was concerned about how quickly the King's mood had changed. He had gone from barely suppressed rage to fake pleasant in mere moments and Murtagh knew from experience that Galbatorix's mood swings were never a good sign.

As he continued to try and figure out Galbatorix's intentions he came to Tornac's home and what he saw made him stop dead in his tracks, his mind consumed with horror. Tornac's house was no longer its comfortingly familiar grey colour but was a terrible charred black. The house had been set on fire. But this wasn't what horrified Murtagh, nor was it the blackened garden or burnt hedgerows. It was what was on the door. For there, nailed to the door by his hands and feet, his once athletic body bloodied, beaten and burnt was Tornac.

Murtagh walked slowly towards the body of his oldest friend, hoping beyond hope that this was a horrible nightmare and that at any moment he would wake up to see Tornac looking down at him, with that ever present look of understanding upon his face. But deep down Murtagh knew that this wasn't a dream because he knew he could never have imagined the pain that stabbed through his heart, tearing it in two. He could smell the charred stone of the house, could hear the crunch of the burnt grass beneath his boots but all he could see was Tornac, brutally murdered because, he, Murtagh had shown an old Rider compassion and mercy. He had gotten used to being brutally tortured as punishment for his good deeds but this was torture beyond endurance. Instinctively Murtagh reached out for Thorn but Galbatorix was blocking them from each other. Suddenly the pain caused by grief and guilt that was tearing at his heart became too much, Murtagh dropped to his knees, threw back his head and let out a scream of such anguish that at first it didn't even sound human. All who heard it felt something for the Red Rider that they hadn't felt before: Pity.

Fuelled by uncontrollable grief and helpless rage, Murtagh scrambled to his feet and with as much tenderness as he could manage, he pulled the nails out of Tornac's hands and feet and lowered him gently to the floor. Removing his heavy armour Murtagh decide to bury Tornac properly without using magic. Searching the remains of the house Murtagh came across a spade that Tornac had used for gardening. Murtagh didn't notice the warmth of the spades handle, all he could feel was a cold numbness that had spread through his body.

Looking around the charred remains of the garden he spotted Tornac's favourite spot under a larger oak tree. Slowly he began to dig, ignoring the painful protests from his already abused and exhausted body. The relentless digging caused blisters to form and then burst on his hands, but Murtagh ignored them. Every ounce of pain, every drop of blood felt like a gift to the brave and honourable man who had paid the ultimate price for Murtagh's mercy. Once the grave was dug, Murtagh gently placed Tornac's body inside and carefully filled in the grave. After retrieving a slab of stone from the remains of the house and ignoring the fact that he was exhausted, ignoring the fact that every inch of his body hurt, he began to mutter in the Ancient Language. When he was done he placed the stone at the head of the grave. On the stone, magically engraved, were the words,

_Here lies Tornac_

_Father to Murtagh _

_The greatest swordsman in Alagaesia _

_The bravest and most honourable man I ever knew _

With Tornac's grave finished Murtagh knelt at the foot of the grave, took Zar'roc from its sheath and made a deep cut along his right palm. He held his bleeding hand over the grave and as his blood seeped into the earth Murtagh made an oath.

"I, Murtagh, Son of Morzan, hereby vow that I will not rest until Tornac, has been avenged and the King lies dead at my feet. On my blood I swear this."

After, Murtagh didn't bother to heal the wound he had made, instead he tore a strip off the bottom of his tunic and wrapped it around his hand leaving the wound as a reminder of the oath he had made. As he knelt by Tornac's grave he could feel his exhaustion and pain beginning to overcome him. He could see black at the edge of his vision. Just before Murtagh lost conscience he heard the mighty roar of a dragon


	4. Chapter 4: Thorn

**Chapter Four: Thorn**

Thorn watched the partner of his heart and mind run out of the Throne Room to Tornac's aid, sincerely hoping that Murtagh got to the old man in time. Thorn knew how much Murtagh loved Tornac and he hated the thought of Murtagh suffering the pain of his loss. His young Rider had suffered enough.

A deep sigh from the Dark King Galbatorix interrupted Thorn's thoughts and brought him back to his own problem. What did the Dark King want? He had never spoken to Thorn privately before, in fact the Dark King rarely spoke to Thorn at all. Orders were always directed at Murtagh and through him, Thorn. What was so important or special that it had to be directed to him alone? Thorn had no doubt that he was about to find out.

"Well Thorn, I must admit your Rider has been a great disappointment. He's disobeyed and defied me one too many times. However, I understand that his decisions are not necessarily yours. Therefore, I am willing to be more lenient with you." The Dark King spoke in a deceptively kind and soft voice and even wore a gentle expression on his cruel features, but Thorn was not deceived. He had been forced to watch this poor excuse for a human brutally torture his beloved Murtagh one too many times. Thorn wasn't going to allow his Rider to suffer alone.

_Every decision Murtagh has made, he has made with me. My Rider and I are one; therefore our decisions are made as one. I have defied and disobeyed you just as much as Murtagh. I accept equal punishment. _Thorn knew he shouldn't have to explain this to the Dark King, surely as a fellow Rider he should understand. Indeed the Dark King was nodding his agreement but when he spoke it was with the same calm tone,

"Very well, you will both suffer for your defiance. Normally the punishment for such crimes is death. However, I am still in need of you dragon and Murtagh is worth more alive, however I cannot have my right-hand man lacking loyalty and obedience, so you see my problem, dragon." Thorn didn't reply. He didn't like where this was going. He didn't trust the Dark King and was sure he was up to something. His suspicion grew when he noticed Shruikan begin to move towards him out of the corner of his eye.

"Being the genius that I am, I have found a solution. You, Thorn, will be given a new Rider of sorts. You do not have to bond with him but you will allow him to ride on you during battles. I will give this Rider the same power I gave Murtagh. Your new Rider has already proven his loyalty to me, for he is my Black Hand." Thorn roared with fury at the Dark King's words. He would fight with no one but Murtagh on his back. Just as Thorn was about to yell this at the Dark King, Shruikan pinned him under a giant black paw. Thorn was too surprised to do anything. As he lay under Shruikan's paw the Dark King smiled down at him and spoke, this time with malicious glee,

"As for Murtagh, I have no use for him. He will be sold as the slave he is. What happens to him then is not my concern." With those words Thorn began to struggle violently against Shruikan's paw. He bucked, he lashed out at the black dragon with his tail, he attempted to bite Shruikan, and his attempts were fuelled purely by a desire to rescue his Rider. But it was no use; Shruikan was a great deal bigger, stronger and older. Filled with helpless rage and despair Thorn let out a mighty roar. The Dark King merely laughed.


	5. Chapter 5: Sold

**Chapter Five: Sold**

Murtagh awoke to find himself starring at the midnight blue sky. It wasn't until Murtagh blinked that he realized he was not looking at the sky but a pair of dark eyes that were surrounded by a tanned face with a crooked nose that looked as though it had been broken several times, a somewhat sad smile completed the picture. Murtagh felt no fear towards the man, whose eyes were full of concern. It had been a while since anyone but Thorn had cared about him.

"Don't die or they'll feed you to the Lions, their worth more than we are", the man said running a hand over his bald head. Murtagh starred at the bald man with confusion but he didn't elaborate or say anything more, instead he turned his attention to something in the distance. It was then that Murtagh realized that he was lying down on what appeared, and felt, like a wooden cart. His sword and armour were missing but he was in the same shirt and pants he had worn whilst burying Tornac. Suddenly, he became aware of the gentle rolling motion of the cart as it rolled along.

Murtagh could discern nothing from his surroundings mainly because his position didn't allow him to see much; however, judging from the cart's movements he could feel beneath his tired body, he guessed they were on a dirt road due to the slight and irregular jerks he experienced, no doubt caused by the cart's wheels hitting rocks or stones on the road.

As he lay there Murtagh realized he didn't have the strength to move. A terrible exhaustion had settled on his body and his mind was consumed with grief at the loss of Tornac. Tornac. The closest thing to a parent he had ever known, Tornac had been everything to Murtagh. Not only had he been a father figure but a close friend and trusted confident, and now he was gone and it was all his fault. Wasn't it? After all it was Murtagh's actions that had compelled the King to kill Tornac. Consumed by guilt and grief he instinctively reached out for Thorn, who was now his only friend, but no matter how loudly he called with his mind Thorn never answered.

As if sensing what Murtagh was doing the bald man gave Murtagh a sympathetic smile and explained,

"Your dragon cannot hear you, Rider. We are no longer in Uru'baen and are three days away at least."

"How do you know?" Murtagh's voice was raspy from disuse. The bald man didn't answer, he simply held up Murtagh's right hand, the hand Murtagh had cut when making his oath, the same hand that had his Gedwey Insignia upon it. Only at the moment neither could be seen as someone had replaced the piece of tunic Murtagh had used to cover up the cut, with a clean linen bandage. Murtagh looked nervously from his bandaged hand to the bald man who was still smiling at him.

Replacing Murtagh's hand at his side the bald man answered Murtagh's unasked question,

"No I haven't told anyone who or what you are and I won't. You needn't fear I will keep your secret. If these slavers cannot work it out then I will not help them. I give you my word." He spoke with such sincerity that Murtagh found himself believing him despite his suspicions. But just as he was about to thank the bald man something he said suddenly hit Murtagh. Slavers.

_I've been sold!_ He thought angrily. Aloud he asked,

"How long have I been unconscious?" The bald man thought for a moment before answering.

"I'm not sure exactly. We've been on the road for three days but you were already unconscious when you were put on the cart, so I don't know exactly. When you were placed on the cart I noticed your bloody hand and decided to help. I'm quite skilled in the art of healing, so I did what I could for you. Your cut has been cleaned now you must let nature do the rest." With that he gave Murtagh a gentle pat on the shoulder and continued starring into the distance. Murtagh, however, continued watching the bald man with open curiosity. Who was this man and why had he decided to help? Murtagh was about to ask why but stopped himself realizing that if this man did have an ulterior motive he wasn't going to tell Murtagh, so he decided that for now he would accept this stranger's kindness. He did, however, ask,

"Who are you?" The bald man seemed to consider Murtagh before answering,

"The name's Apollo. I was the local healer in my village. A few months ago, some of the King's soldiers came recruiting all the able bodied men they could find. But I refused to fight for the King and as punishment I was sold to these slavers." Murtagh nodded his understanding.

Neither man spoke again for some time so Murtagh took the opportunity to study Apollo. He was dressed in grey rags and seemed slender underneath. It was difficult to determine his height as he was sat cross legged next to him. Murtagh guessed his age to be around early thirties. He wasn't sure what to make of him but he was grateful for the kindness Apollo had shown him. Murtagh wasn't used to people showing him kindness which made him appreciate it all the more.

As the day turned steadily into night, Murtagh began to drift off to sleep. His last thoughts before sleep took him were of Thorn. He hoped Thorn was okay and he wondered what was happening to his dragon.


	6. Chapter 6: Slave Trade

**Chapter Six: Slave Trade**

Murtagh awoke to find the cart was no longer moving. Having slept for long hours on the journey, Murtagh now felt a great deal stronger and managed to sit up to take in his surroundings. They had stopped in a city with close built buildings, narrow cobbled roads, narrow alleyways and busy streets. Just as Murtagh was trying to see some sort of landmark by which to identify the city, a guard dressed in a black uniform with the Empire symbol emblazoned on the front yelled at Murtagh and Apollo to get down. Apollo gave Murtagh a hand down as, although he had regained some strength, Murtagh was still quite weak.

The guard put them in to two rows whilst another guard put a dog collar around their necks. The collars had a length of chain at the front, connecting them to the slave in front, and a length of chain at the back, connecting them to the slave behind. As the leather collar was placed around his neck, Murtagh momentarily considered trying to escape but knew it was pointless, because not only was he still quite weak but there were at least ten guards surrounding them. He knew he wouldn't get far.

The guards marched them through the city until they reached the marketplace in the centre. The marketplace was full of people moving between stalls buying their daily wares. Murtagh, at first, wondered why they had been brought here, when next to him Apollo gently nudged him in the ribs and nodded at a space just beside the bustling marketplace. At first it looked to Murtagh like a barren stretch of land, but as he looked harder he noticed several wooden poles stuck in the ground at intervals. All the poles had chains bedded into them. The guards steered them towards the poles.

Several minutes later, Murtagh found he was chained by his left wrist to one of the poles situated in what he now realized was the slave area of the market. He looked across at Apollo, who was chained by his right ankle to the pole opposite Murtagh and gave him a reassuring smile. Murtagh gave a small smile back and wondered again what was happening to Thorn. He tried to contact Thorn but found he couldn't. Murtagh was suddenly brought out of his worrying thoughts when he felt a sharp poke to his leg. He fixed his stormy grey eyes on the old man that had poked him with his walking stick. The old man ignored Murtagh's furious stare and continued inspecting his legs. After a few more sharp pokes with the stick, he shook his head and walked away.

Murtagh was forced to endure more and more inspections like his first one as late morning turned into steady afternoon. Although these inspections left him frustrated and angry, Murtagh wasn't foolish enough to say anything or vent his anger in any way, knowing that to do so would only get him a beating. It simply wasn't worth it.

As the day wore on Murtagh tried to occupy himself by trying to work out how he could fulfil his oath and kill Galbatorix. Late afternoon arrived and Murtagh had barely moved. His muscles were stiff and sore, he was cold and hungry and above all bored. Across from him he could see Apollo felt the same. Murtagh was just considering going to sleep when a shadow fell across him. He looked up to find he was being observed by a short, pot-bellied man with shoulder length grey hair, a short grey beard and tanned skin. He was dressed in dark pants and a gold tunic with black trim. At his hip hung a short sword whose hilt was inlaid with gold stones. Whoever this man was, it was clear to Murtagh that he was incredibly wealthy. Murtagh found himself looking into fierce and intelligent light brown eyes.

"What was your profession, boy?" he barked at Murtagh. Murtagh knew he couldn't say he was a Dragon Rider so he decided to tell a half truth.

"I was a soldier", Murtagh replied, his deep voice raspy from lack of use. The man said nothing else to Murtagh, instead he ran his eyes over Murtagh's slender, yet athletic frame and nodded approvingly. He then turned his back on Murtagh and walked over to Apollo to ask him the same question. Apollo told the man he had been a healer. Murtagh watched curiously as the man got Apollo to stand up and then began inspecting him, by squeezing Apollo's arms and pushing against his stomach. Seemingly satisfied he turned to the slaver standing a short distance away, that Murtagh hadn't noticed till now.

"I'll give you two thousand gold pieces each for the soldier and the healer", the man said firmly. Murtagh knew the slaver wasn't happy about this because of the look of outrage that had appeared on his flat face.

"You cannot be serious! The soldier alone is worth five thousand", the slaver exclaimed furiously. The man suddenly held up Murtagh's bandaged right hand.

"These slaves are rotten", he said furiously. The slaver fidgeted uncomfortably and mumbled something unintelligible. Murtagh noticed a sudden, mischievous gleam light the man's eyes and he smiled at the slaver.

"Alright, I'll give you three thousand for the soldier and two thousand for the healer. That's four thousand gold pieces for a good man", the man stated matter-of-factly. The slaver seemed happy with this. It was clear to Murtagh that the slaver couldn't count and he couldn't help but admire the way the man had negotiated a price by taking advantage of the slavers lack of education.

The man paid for Murtagh and Apollo and four guards came to unchain them and escort them to the cart that would transport them to the man's estate. As they were loaded into the cart, Murtagh couldn't help but notice that the cart was basically a wooden cage on wheels.

As the cage began to rumble along on its way out of the city, Murtagh wondered what fate had in store for him at this strange man's estate and once again he wondered what was happening to Thorn and silently prayed that his beloved dragon was ok.


	7. Chapter 7: Oromis

**Chapter Seven: Oromis**

After the battle at Gil'ead the Elves set out to join the Varden at their camp outside the city of Belatona. Oromis and his golden dragon Glaedr spent the journey to Belatona in a companionable silence. Both were worrying about Murtagh and Thorn and wondering what had become of them. Oromis was certain that Galbatorix would be furious with them for letting Oromis and Glaedr live. Sensing his Riders thoughts, Glaedr tried to reassure the old elf,

_I'm sure they are alright. The Oath-Breaker King will not kill them._

_No, he won't, but he will hurt them horribly for showing us mercy, _Oromis replied sadly.

Oromis hated knowing that he was inadvertently responsible for another's suffering, especially ones as young as Murtagh and Thorn. Not only that, but Oromis felt indebted to Murtagh. He could have killed Oromis so easily, instead he chose to let him live and suffer the consequences.

_We have arrived at the Varden;_ Glaedr's words brought Oromis out of his thoughts of Murtagh. Looking down Oromis could see the many tents of the rebel force. They were camped outside Belatona on a plateau overlooking the city. A short distance behind the camp was a bare strip of land that was used by the Varden as a take-off and landing area for Saphira, the blue dragon of Eragon Shadeslayer, and now Glaedr. Waiting for their arrival was what appeared to be the whole Varden, with their leaders at the forefront.

Once Glaedr had landed Oromis gracefully slid from his back and waited for Queen Islanzadi and the elfin army to catch-up. When Queen Islanzadi was level with Oromis the two made their way to the Varden leaders and introduced themselves. Lady Nasuada, the ebony skinned leader of the Varden, was the first to offer her greetings. Next was King Orrin of Surda, dressed in expensive robes, next was Orik, King of the Dwarves, the smallest of the leaders. Last to greet Oromis and the elves was Arya, who embraced her mother, Queen Islanzadi, rather awkwardly, and Eragon and Saphira who gave the usual elfin greeting. Once the pleasantries had been exchanged and Oromis, Glaedr and Queen Islanzadi had been introduced to the rest of the Varden, they headed to Nasuada's pavilion so that the Queen and Oromis could explain what had happened at Gil'ead.

After Queen Islanzadi had given a short account of the battle, Oromis recounted his battle with Murtagh. He told how Murtagh had disarmed him, stood on the verge of killing him and then simply left with Thorn leaving Oromis and Glaedr alive. Silence followed his tale.

"Do you know why Murtagh choose to leave you both alive?" asked Nasuada, breaking the silence.

"No. Murtagh gave no explanation for his actions and neither did Thorn. However, I believe Murtagh could simply not bring himself to kill me. On the occasions that Murtagh has killed, he has done so because Galbatorix's oaths forced him too. But when Murtagh actually had a choice in whether or not he killed, he choose to let me live", Oromis said with full confidence in his reasoning.

"Maybe there is still some goodness in Murtagh", said Nasuada softly. Oromis observed the young Varden leader and saw the hope in her eyes when she spoke. Something told Oromis he was not the only one who wanted to free Murtagh and his dragon.

"The boy's a traitor" barked King Orik, slamming his hand down on the table they were all seated around.

"But not by choice King Orik. Murtagh did not choose his fate. It was forced upon him. He did not ask to do the King's bidding", Oromis said, looking the dwarf king in the eye. Orik merely grunted but said nothing. Oromis decided to be honest about what he intended to try and do.

"In view of recent events, I have decided to do all within my power to help Murtagh and Thorn. Glaedr and I wish to set them free."

_And we will. But we may need a little help from the Varden to free them from their prison,_ Glaedr added, his head resting next to Saphira's in the flap that had been designed so the dragons could participate in the conversation.

Oromis again looked at Nasuada as his dragon spoke. The young woman looked him straight in the eye and said,

"The Varden will assist you in any way possible." Inclining his head to Nasuada in thanks, Oromis stood to leave. As he made his way to his tent he couldn't help but wonder what Murtagh and Thorn were doing now and wondered if they were ok.


	8. Chapter 8: The Black Hand

**Chapter Eight: The Black Hand**

A muscular man in his late twenty's with tanned skin, dark brown eyes and thinning brown hair walked to the centre of the sparring field and bowed to the King, who was waiting with a self-satisfied look. Neither man spoke, as no words were needed, instead they raised their swords and began sparring. Throughout the session neither man acknowledged or spoke to the large blood-red dragon lying at the side of the field, watching them miserably through ruby eyes.

It had been a week since Murtagh had been sold by the Dark King, and not a moment went by that Thorn didn't think about his Rider. Was Murtagh alright? Where was he? A deep ache had settled on Thorn's heart and it grew worse whenever he thought about his beloved Murtagh. The Dark King had blocked Thorn from talking to his Rider using dark magic, and Murtagh was probably too far away for him to communicate with anyway. Thorn hated the Dark King for separating him from Murtagh and hatred had turned to pure loathing when he had met the despicable creature that was to be his partner in battle. He was the Dark King's Black Hand. Thorn didn't know his real name and didn't care to know.

As he watched the Dark King spar with the Black Hand, Thorn noticed, with growing resentment towards both, that The Dark King was gentle and approving towards the Black Hand where he had been cruel and condescending to Murtagh.

_It isn't fair_, Thorn thought bitterly. Why had Murtagh been treated with such cruelty? Was it any wonder then that he defied the Dark King? Thorn felt a sudden surge of pride towards his Rider, who had never let the Dark King's brutal punishments stop him from doing good and trying to help others rather than hurt them when he could.

Thorn was brought out of his loving thoughts when he realised that silence had fallen over the sparring field and that the Dark King had disappeared. The Black Hand was standing in front of him, a sneer masking his flat face. He attempted to enter Thorn's mind, probably to talk to him, but Thorn put up heavy barriers around his mind. He would not allow this wretched man inside his head.

"You cannot keep me out forever, Dragon", snarled the Black Hand before storming back into the castle. For a moment Thorn considered eating the Black Hand but decided against it. Such a man would undoubtedly taste revolting. Thorn knew some of what he had done, killing innocent people for the fun of it. Murtagh had labelled the Black Hand a psychopath and Thorn knew his Rider had hated the man.

The Black Hand was wrong anyway. Thorn would never let that vile man into his mind. His didn't want the Black Hands foul thoughts in his head. But there was another reason Thorn didn't want anyone inside his head. The Dark King had not been inside Thorn's head since he had extracted his true name several months ago and Thorn was certain the Dark King hadn't noticed any change. But Thorn had. He could no longer feel that small dark presence in the back of his mind, which was the oaths the Dark King, had forced him to swear using his true name. And Thorn knew why. His true name had changed. His loathing for the Dark King had changed it. Before, Thorn had feared the Dark King more than he had hated him but that had all changed when the Dark King sold his Rider and now hatred was the only thing Thorn felt towards the Dark King.

Deep in his heart he knew the same was true of Murtagh. They were free. Thorn was even now hatching a plan to find Murtagh and make the Dark King pay for all the pain he had caused them.


	9. Chapter 9: Proximo

**Chapter Nine: Proximo**

The wooden cage holding Murtagh and Apollo picked up other slaves from towns and cities they passed. Murtagh wondered who his new master was and why he seemed to want so many slaves. There were at least 20 in the cage including Murtagh and Apollo. All, Murtagh noticed, were muscular and strong. What did his master want them for? Murtagh wondered.

As Murtagh continued to ponder his new master and his reasons for buying them, the slaves passed under an arched doorway set into what, Murtagh guessed, was the perimeter wall. They had arrived at last to their master's home.

The wooden cage stopped in a courtyard of a large stone castle. They were instructed to get down and form a line across the courtyard, by large burly guards, dressed in gold and black. Murtagh, with Apollo on his right, realized they were going to meet their master and, indeed, barely had the thought come to him, when the front doors opened and his new master came out.

It was the man who had bought them. He was wearing the same gold tunic and black pants he had worn when buying Murtagh and Apollo. He stood in front of them, almost directly in front of Murtagh, put his hands behind his back and addressed his new slaves,

"I am Proximo. I shall be closer to you for the next few days, which will be the last of your miserable lives, than the bitch of a mother that brought you screaming into this world. I did not pay good money for your company; I paid it so that I could profit from your death and as your mother was there at your beginning, so I shall be there at your end. And when you die, and die you shall, your transition shall be to the sound of applause…Gladiators, I salute you." Proximo spoke with passion and when he was finished he turned his back on them and walked back into his castle.

Murtagh watched as Proximo walked back inside the castle, with a detached interest. So he had been bought to die. He tried to feel fear, after all death had always been a deep fear of his, but he couldn't, all he could feel was the same cold numbness he had felt when he had found Tornac's body. For a moment, Murtagh wondered if he had lost the ability to feel emotion but no that wasn't it. He had simply lost his fear of death; after all, Galbatorix had shown him that there are worst fates then death.

Murtagh knew he was a good fighter and he was confident he could survive in the Gladiator arena. Suddenly Murtagh felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Apollo smiling at him.

"C'mon, Soldier. We're being taken round to the sparring fields to be tested on what we know", he said, giving Murtagh a gentle nudge to get him to move. Looking around Murtagh realized that one of Proximo's guards had been yelling instructions at them, while he had been lost in his thoughts. Smiling his thanks at Apollo, he followed the other slaves around to the back of the castle where the sparring fields were.

The sparring fields dominated the castle's back garden. Everywhere Murtagh looked, men fought. He watched the two men closest. The man on the left clearly had the upper hand; the man on the right was struggling. Suddenly he slipped on the grass and was impaled on the others sword. Murtagh watched in horror as two guards picked up the dead man and as quickly as they could, they dumped his body in a large cage on the outskirts of the sparring field that contained two large lions. Murtagh looked away, not wanting to see but unable to stop himself from hearing the sound of large teeth tearing human flesh. He felt sick. So that's what happened to the dead here. There was no honourable burial here.

Murtagh felt a hand give his shoulder a gentle and companionable squeeze and looked around into the compassionate midnight blue eyes of Apollo.

"Come, my friend. Let's go and sit until we are called", Apollo said and steered Murtagh to the benches that lined the edges of the field. Murtagh looked at Apollo walking beside him and felt a sudden rush of affection towards the older man. Apollo had been nothing but kind to him since they had met. As the son of Morzan, Murtagh wasn't used to strangers showing him kindness; usually they treated him with scorn and disgust. He was grateful that he had found a friend in his slavery. But even as he thought this, Murtagh felt a sudden stab of apprehension for Apollo. Apollo was a healer not a fighter. Would he survive as a gladiator?

Before Murtagh could worry any more about Apollo, his friend was called up to be tested. Murtagh felt a stab of fear for Apollo, but then he saw what they were using to test them, wooden swords. Murtagh relaxed and decided to find a way of teaching Apollo sword plays if he needed to.

Murtagh watched as Apollo faced the man who was testing them. He was a big, muscular man with broad shoulders, short brown hair and brown eyes. He looked scornfully down at Apollo, who had a determined look in his eyes. The man attacked and with one swift movement Apollo blocked him with ease. The look of surprise on the man's face was mirrored on Murtagh's. Again and again he attacked and every time Apollo blocked him and beat him back.

Murtagh watched the fight with fascination and wondered where Apollo had learned sword play and what other talents his friend had up his sleeve.

Proximo, who was watching from a chair under a canopy, looked satisfied.

"Enough. Red", he stated. Red was the colour that was dabbed onto the front of Apollo's grey rags. Murtagh had noticed that fighters were either red or yellow, with the red being the best fighters. He looked down at his filthy red tunic that Galbatorix had given him to match his dragon, and his thoughts wondered back to his beautiful ruby red friend. What was Thorn doing right now?

"Soldier", the shout from the man pulled Murtagh out of his thoughts. He looked up and realized that it was his turn to be tested.

Murtagh walked to the centre of the sparring field where the man was waiting. He took the long wooden sword the man offered and gazing down at it, an image of Tornac, the man who taught him sword play, came into his mind. Suddenly, Murtagh saw Tornac as he had last seen him. Burnt, Bloodied, Dead. Feeling a sudden rage and revulsion at what was being demanded of him, to kill for another man's profit, Murtagh threw the wooden sword to the ground and starred defiantly at Proximo, who looked at Murtagh with surprise and curiosity.

Proximo nodded towards the man, turning his attention to him, Murtagh saw the man nod back and then suddenly he attacked. He hit Murtagh in the stomach with his wooden sword, causing Murtagh to double up in pain. Ignoring the pain in his stomach, Murtagh straightened up and starred defiantly at the man before him. The man responded by hitting Murtagh again. Harder this time and this time he hit Murtagh on the left shoulder. The force of the blow caused Murtagh to lose his balance and stumble but he did not go down. Again he straightened up and starred at his opponent. The man now looked annoyed. He brought his wooden sword up and made to hit Murtagh in the head. Murtagh didn't as much as flinch, he merely stood there waiting for the blow to come. But just before it connected,

"That's enough! His time will come", Proximo shouted. The man stepped back from Murtagh and a servant dabbed yellow onto his tunic.

Proximo didn't take his eyes off the soldier as he was given his colour and led away to the slave block. The soldier looked no older than nineteen but he had bravery. He never flinched as Demetri's sword hit him and he kept getting up for more.

As he watched the other slaves, he thought back to the moment when the soldier had locked eyes with him and that's when Proximo had seen it. The boy could be no more than nineteen but his eyes had a deadened, haunted look, as if he had seen, heard and experienced horrors beyond imaging. Proximo had to admit he was curious about his boy soldier.


	10. Chapter 10: Becoming a Gladiator

**Chapter Ten: Becoming a Gladiator**

Murtagh rolled up his left sleeve and looked at the large black bruise that had formed just below his shoulder. Below the bruise was the symbol of the Empire that Galbatorix had had forcibly tattooed onto his arm. As he looked at it Murtagh felt a surge of hatred towards Galbatorix and the Empire. Murtagh looked around the slave block for something sharp. Slaves weren't allowed sharp objects whilst they were in the slave block, which was basically a large oblong, stone building that was empty except for the stone benches that lined both walls and were used for sitting and sleeping. But on the floor, not far from where he was sat, was a small, jagged piece of rock. Grabbing it Murtagh began fiercely scrapping the tattoo off his flesh. Fuelled by his anger and hatred of Galbatorix, Murtagh barely felt the pain and was able to ignore the blood that ran down his arm; he also felt a savage satisfaction at destroying the symbol, the King had forced upon him.

After a few minutes, Murtagh became aware that he was being watched. Looking up he saw Apollo standing in front of him, watching him with a concerned expression. Murtagh watched wearily as Apollo sat beside him and waited for Apollo to try and stop what he was doing, but Apollo made no attempt to stop Murtagh's self-mutilation.

"That's Galbatorix's symbol, isn't it?" Apollo asked.

"Yes." Murtagh did not stop what he was doing, despite the fact that his arm was red with blood.

"Will that not anger him?"

Murtagh couldn't help but snort gently at that. He had angered Galbatorix in the past for less and paid the price but Galbatorix was not there to punish him and Murtagh felt a savage pleasure at doing something that would make the King furious had he still been his slave. Ignoring Apollo's quizzical look Murtagh nodded. For a few minutes they sat in silence, until finally Apollo asked the question, Murtagh suspected he had wanted to ask since he sat down,

"Soldier, why don't you fight? We all have to fight."

"I've had of enough of fighting", Murtagh replied quietly. Apollo didn't press the subject but accepted Murtagh's answer with a nod.

Once Murtagh was satisfied that he had managed to scrape off the tattoo, Apollo tore off a strip of his tunic and expertly bandaged Murtagh's arm.

"Where did you learn to fight?" Murtagh asked once Apollo was done.

"My father taught me when I was younger. Told me I might need to defend myself one day. I guess he was right."

"How old are you?" The question was out of Murtagh's mouth before he could stop it, but Apollo didn't seem to mind.

"I'm 34. What about you?"

"Nineteen." Apollo nodded as if he had guessed as much.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I've got something for you", said Apollo, pulling a cloth hand guard that archers used out of his pants pocket and offering it to Murtagh. Accepting it, Murtagh turned the black, hand guard over in his hands.

"Where did you get this?"

"It was lying on a table next to a row of bows that's at the side of the archery field, next to our building. You can't wear a bandage forever and I figured you would want to cover up your you-know-what", Apollo's voice dropped to a whisper as he said this. Murtagh nodded, he had forgotten about his Gedwey Insignia. With everything that had happened since it had been driven from his mind.

"Thank you, for everything", Murtagh said sincerely trying to put all his gratitude into those four simple words and he wasn't sure he managed it but Apollo smiled, nodded and gently began removing Murtagh's bandage on his right hand. He inspected Murtagh's wound for a moment and satisfied he let Murtagh put the hand guard on. It fit well, hiding both his new scar and the Gedwey Insignia.

The two friends talked for a while before a guard yelled through the barred windows for them to go to sleep.

For the next two days all the slaves were given basic training in sword play, all except Murtagh who still refused to fight. As punishment he was given 20 lashes and was confined to the slave block. Apollo didn't question Murtagh's refusal to fight, instead he got permission to tend to Murtagh's lashes. As he lay on his stomach whilst Apollo dealt with his wounds, Murtagh felt Apollo gently trace the scar his father, Morzan, had given him when he had thrown Zar'roc at him in a drunken rage. Murtagh was three at the time. The scar went from Murtagh's right shoulder to his left hip.

"So the stories are true. Morzan did this to you?" Apollo whispered.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry for what you have suffered, young soldier." Apollo's voice was so full of compassion that Murtagh wasn't sure how to respond so he remained silent.

Four days after their arrival Murtagh and the others were once again loaded into the wooden cage on wheels. Murtagh didn't know where they were going and he didn't care. The journey lasted around four hours by Murtagh's reckoning. Looking through the cage's bars, Murtagh saw that they were heading for a large circular building, a gladiator arena. Murtagh knew he wasn't the only one to have spotted the arena, as the atmosphere in the cage changed the moment the others knew where they were going. The quiet, nervous air vanished to be replaced by a terrified tension. Their first fight was upon them.

On arrival, the slaves were led to a long stone-walled room with wooden benches lining both walls. In the middle of the room was a long table full of swords, spears and shields. Taking a seat on a bench next to Apollo, Murtagh sat in silence. No one was saying anything, there was nothing to be said and in their silence, Murtagh and the others could hear the shouts of the restless crowd sat in the stands above them.

Murtagh watched Proximo walk to the table and pick up a short sword, twirling the sword in his hands, he walked up and down the room observing each slave one by one, his eyes lingered on Murtagh as he began to speak,

"Some of you are thinking you won't fight, some that you can't. They all say that until they are out there. Thrust this into another man's flesh and they will applaud and love you for that. You may begin to love them for that. Ultimately, we're all dead men, sadly we cannot choose how, BUT we can decide how we meet that end in order that we are remembered as men." Murtagh listened intently to Proximo's speech and thought about the blood oath he had made over Tornac's grave. He knew that if he didn't fight then he would die and he'd never be able to fulfil his oath. And then there was Thorn, Murtagh couldn't bear the thought of leaving him alone in the world and also if he was going to die then Murtagh wanted to die fighting. He would not lose his honour.

"Pair them up. Reds with yellows", said a guard, hauling unwilling slaves to their feet and dragging them into an ante-chamber, where the slaves were being chained together. Murtagh was paired with Apollo and was then handed a shield while Apollo was given a sword.

Lined up behind the doors to the centre of the arena, Murtagh found himself behind Demetri, who was chained to a slave who was so frightened his entire body was shaking. Murtagh, watching the terrified slave, knew the poor man wouldn't survive this fight. Murtagh knew from experience that fear in small doses was fine, you could use it to drive you on during battle but too much of it and your body freezes. Even as Murtagh thought this he heard a soft tinkling sound, looking down Murtagh saw that the terrified slave had wet himself. Taking a small step back, Murtagh turned his attention to the wooden doors that separated him from his unknown opponents. Feeling the weight of his shield in his left hand (his right was chained to Apollo) Murtagh felt oddly naked without a sword to defend himself, he would have to rely on Apollo until he could procure a sword. Looking across at Apollo, Murtagh shared an understanding nod with his friend; they both knew they would need to work together in order to survive.

The doors opened to the open air arena; stood in the middle were seven experienced Gladiators, whose weapons varied from swords and spears to maces. All were well built and wearing helmets that hid their faces. Following Demetri and his partner into the arena, Murtagh and Apollo found themselves facing one of the gladiators armed with two swords. Ignoring the screams of terror and cries of agony that surrounded him, Murtagh emptied himself of emotion and focused on his opponent and Apollo.

The gladiator swung his right hand sword up towards Apollo but Murtagh stepped in front of Apollo and blocked the strike with his shield. Quickly stepping round Murtagh, Apollo aimed a blow at the gladiator but his strike was blocked by the gladiator's left hand sword. And so their fight continued, with Murtagh using the shield for both defence and attack to distract the gladiator while Apollo tried to find an opening in the gladiator's defence. After a few moments it appeared when the gladiator launched an attack on Murtagh giving Apollo the opportunity to stab the gladiator in the neck. With their first opponent down, they were quickly facing a second. This one was armed only with a spear. As their next adversary approached Murtagh took up a position in front of Apollo making sure to leave him room to attack.

The gladiator attacked first, thrusting his spear at Murtagh, who quickly dodged the spear and just as the spear's head was level with him, Murtagh grabbed hold of it and pulled it as hard as he could; taken by surprise the gladiator lost his spear to Murtagh, who didn't hesitate to stab the gladiator in the gut. But this gladiator was made of stern stuff; he yanked the spear out of his gut and was clearly about to try and launch an attack on Murtagh and Apollo but the two friends never gave him the chance. Extending the chain that bound them together to its full extent so that it was a taut line between them, they ran at the gladiator and their chain ripped open the front of his throat.

Tugging the chain out of the gladiator's neck, Murtagh and Apollo straightened up and looked at each other and Murtagh felt bound to Apollo. They had fought and survived together, fighting as one. Suddenly, Murtagh became aware of rapturous applause and cheering coming from the crowd. Looking around the arena, Murtagh saw that all seven gladiators were dead; one had been impaled on one of the large spikes that lined the wall of the arena. As he looked down at the dead that covered the arena floor, Murtagh noticed that the majority of the 20 slaves that had fought had died; he and Apollo were one of three pairings who had survived. Demetri had also survived but his partner lay dead several feet away from Murtagh.

Murtagh felt a sudden surge of rage and pity, pity for the slaves and rage for the cheering crowd. Those slaves hadn't asked to die; they didn't want to fight but were given no choice in the matter. How dare these people cheer the deaths of innocent people!

His rage must have shown on his face because Apollo gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and forcefully steered Murtagh back into the ante-chamber and away from the crowd. Murtagh's rage was making him feel sick. He had never felt more ashamed to be human. Looking at Apollo and one or two of the surviving slaves, Murtagh saw his sick feeling reflected on their faces and Murtagh was reminded that not all humans were cruel. Murtagh allowed that thought to give him something he had not had in quite a long time, Hope.

**Author's note: Thank you Saraackles for the review. I really appreciate it x**


	11. Chapter 11: Orders

**Chapter Eleven: Orders**

King Galbatorix was feeling incredibly confidant. His spies had informed him that the Varden planned on laying siege to Belatona and that with two Riders on their side they were extremely confidant. Well King Galbatorix intended to wipe away any smug looks the Varden may be wearing. There was no doubt in Galbatorix's mind that his Black Hand would succeed first time, where Murtagh had deliberately failed him twice.

As Galbatorix congratulated himself on his cleverness his Black Hand arrived, bowing respectfully to the King, he stood with his hands behind his back waiting patiently for his orders. _Yes,_ the King thought, _here was a man who had and would continue to serve his King well._ Out load he said,

"Black Hand, The Varden marches on Belatona in six days. Lead my troops into battle capture the Rider Eragon and his dragon, Saphira. Do not kill them but you may capture them any way you see fit. Also, try and persuade Oromis and Glaedr to join us, if they refuse kill them."

"Yes, Your Highness." After swearing to fulfil his orders in the Ancient Language, the Black Hand bowed and left the throne room.

_You see, Shruikan, how much better he is than Murtagh. Oaths sworn willingly and orders received without question,_ Galbatorix thought smugly to the large black dragon lounging behind the throne.

_I preferred Murtagh. He may only have been a child but he had the nerve and courage to stand up for what he believed in. The boy had great strength, _replied Shruikan. Galbatorix simply ignored his dragon. With the Eldunari he now possessed his Black Hand couldn't possibly fail.


	12. Chapter 12: The Battle of Belatona

**Chapter Twelve: The Battle of Belatona**

Oromis looked across the plateau towards the large, stone keep that the Varden would have to seize in order to successfully take the city. The siege was planned for tomorrow and still Oromis didn't have a plan for rescuing Murtagh and Thorn. The problem was that Oromis didn't know what oaths they had taken or how they were worded; this was his biggest obstacle, although many had disagreed, Murtagh's half-brother Eragon amongst them. Eragon, Saphira, Arya and Orik believed that convincing Murtagh and Thorn to let Oromis and Glaedr to help them was the biggest task facing the elfin Rider and his dragon. But both Oromis and Glaedr knew that Murtagh and Thorn wanted to be free more than anything else in the world and Oromis had no doubt that if he could only talk to Murtagh, he could easily convince him to accept his help.

Oromis fully intended to talk to Murtagh the next time they met in battle, which Oromis hoped would be tomorrow. In the meantime, Oromis returned to his tent, where he found Nasuada pacing nervously. Oromis wasn't entirely surprised to see her.

"Lady Nasuada, is there something wrong?"

"No, I just wondered if I could speak to you privately about tomorrow."

"Of course, please come in", Oromis said whilst holding the flap of his tent open for her. Following her inside, Oromis sat on his bed while Nasuada took a seat opposite on the bedside chair.

"Now tell me what is troubling you about tomorrow's siege", said Oromis, observing Nasuada with a kind, almost fatherly expression.

"Will it work? Will Murtagh listen?" replied Nasuada quietly, almost as if she was scared of the answer. An answer Oromis did not give immediately, instead he took a moment to study the leader of the Varden. She looked her nineteen years, her ebony skin shone softly and her beautiful face was etched with worry. Oromis was a good reader of people, human and elf, and he understood what was troubling Lady Nasuada. He had noticed the way her eyes lit up with hope whenever he spoke about freeing Murtagh and the way she said Murtagh's name, as if he was something precious. Nasuada cared for Murtagh.

_She is worried not just about what happens if I say he won't listen but, also what will happen if I say he will. Nasuada has feelings for Murtagh but she believes that as the Varden leader, she should not be having romantic thoughts towards a traitor, _Oromis thought, feeling sorry for the young woman in front of him. Speaking gently he gave Nasuada his answer,

"Yes, Murtagh will listen. He has no love for Galbatorix or the Empire and has undoubtedly suffered horribly at the King's hands. Murtagh and Thorn want simply to be free, and to be able to make their own choices."

Nasuada nodded her understanding.

"Thank you Oromis-elda", said Nasuada before she gave a small bow to the elfin Rider and left. Oromis lay back on his bed and decided to try and get some rest before the morning siege.

As the sun raised over the Varden soldiers, Oromis and Eragon mounted their dragons with the sun reflecting the gold of Glaedr's scales. Oromis looked out at the various species standing side by side, humans, elves, dwarfs and urgals waiting to fight and die together. It made Oromis respect and admire Lady Nasuada all the more, for she was the one who made all this possible. Turning his attention to the city of Belatona, Oromis searched for a glint of red but he saw no sign of Thorn.

Oromis looked towards the keep and watched with his advanced elfin eyes as the Vardens advanced party, made up of three humans and three elves, whose job it was to open the gates of the keep which would allow soldiers access, to not just the keep, but the city as well, silently and stealthily scaled the walls of Belatona. Beside him, Eragon stirred restlessly.

"Say what you want to say, Eragon. Holding feelings in does no one any good", Oromis told the seventeen year old.

"Are you sure this is wise, Master? Whilst you're talking Murtagh might harm you," Eragon said quickly, as if wanting to speak his thoughts before he lost his nerve. Oromis sighed.

"Do you have so little faith in your own brother, Eragon?" Oromis asked. Eragon bristled at his words,

"Murtagh is no brother of mine."

Oromis looked at Eragon with raised eyebrows,

"No? I'd have thought you would be proud to have a brother who chooses to suffer torture rather than destroy his enemies ally. Such an act takes courage and strength beyond what most men possess."

Eragon opened his mouth to say something but then closed it again and instead turned his attention to the keep, thinking about what Oromis had said.

As the two Riders sat there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts a flaming arrow emerged over the keep walls and the gates to the city began to open. The arrow was the signal for the Varden to advance.

Whilst the Vardens soldiers advanced, Oromis and Eragon and their dragons waited. Eragon would join them as soon as they entered the city, as for Oromis, his job was to make contact with Murtagh and Thorn.

Within minutes the Varden was in and with a nod to his Master, Eragon and Saphira took to the sky. Oromis heard the Varden cheer when they saw the Blue Rider and his dragon fly to fight beside them. Watching Eragon and hearing the praise he received made the Golden Rider think yet again, of Murtagh. He was desperate to help the boy and repay the debt he felt he owed him.

Just as he was thinking of the Red Rider and his dragon he saw on the horizon the glittering mass of Thorn, but as he and Glaedr took to the air he noticed something wrong. It took Oromis a few moments to work out was amiss, until he took a closer look at the Rider; the Rider on Thorn's back was smaller and broader than Murtagh and, not only that but, he was dressed all in black with the Empire crest emblazoned on the front, Murtagh had always worn red to match his dragon. That wasn't Murtagh! Oromis felt fear grip his heart as he realised that Murtagh was not riding Thorn. Who was this mysterious man and where was Murtagh?

_Oromis, the rider is Galbatorix's Black Hand, not Murtagh!_ His dragon's urgent words brought Oromis out of his own thoughts.

_How do you know that for certain?_ asked Oromis.

_Because Thorn has told me, the moment he saw us he entered my mind so that he could tell us that Murtagh is gone and he believes that he is no longer bound to Galbatorix but wants our help to get rid of the Black Hand; but be careful he has all the Eldunari that Murtagh had plus more, _Glaedr explained.

_Then we must dispose of this man and do what we can to help Thorn_. But even as he spoke he felt a stab of fear; what did Thorn mean Murtagh was gone?

However, Oromis had no time to dwell on his thoughts as he and Glaedr were now side by side with Thorn and the Black Hand didn't waste any time launching, both a mental and physical, attack. As Oromis blocked sword stroke after sword stroke with ease, he felt another presence touch his mind gently and he knew by instinct that it was Thorn, offering his help, which Oromis and Glaedr accepted as it would end the mental battle quicker.

The Black Hand continued to stab with viciousness at both Oromis's mind and body and with the help from the Eldunari, Oromis was struggling to stop and counter attack his mental assault, but the moment Thorns mind joined that of the elf and gold dragon, Oromis noticed a momentary stoppage in the Black Hands physical and mental attack. Clearly he was stunned that Thorn was helping his enemies. The Black Hand had not expected the ruby dragon to turn on him.

_We've taken him by surprise _Oromis realized, and without hesitation the three allies launched a fierce attack on the Black Hand's mind, simultaneously Oromis took advantage of the man's momentary lack of concentration and stabbed his golden sword straight at his heart. The Black Hand realized what was happening but simply wasn't fast enough to do anything about it and Oromis's sword buried itself right the way through his chest. King Galbatorix's Black Hand gave one last gasp and then breathed no more.


	13. Chapter 13: Allies

**Chapter Thirteen: Allies**

The battle of Belatona lasted only a few hours. With the strength of the elves, dwarves and urgals on their side the Varden were no match for the soldiers of the Empire. The death of the Black Hand seemed to rob many of the Empire's soldiers of their morale.

With the city taken, Glaedr and Thorn landed just outside the city. Oromis wasted little time. He was anxious to know what had become of Murtagh, so once the three had made themselves comfortable next to the walls of Belatona, they prepared to talk. But before they could start Eragon, Saphira and Nasuada arrived. Nasuada had persuaded the other leaders to oversee the Varden's takeover of Belatona while they talked to Thorn without anyone knowing.

Once everyone was ready Oromis didn't hesitate to question Thorn, but spoke his question out loud so that everyone knew what he was asking.

"Thorn, you told Glaedr that Murtagh was gone and that the man we killed was Galbatorix's Black Hand, but what did you mean when you said Murtagh was gone?"

Thorn projected his thoughts to all present,

_The Dark King has sold Murtagh as punishment for us letting you and Glaedr live. He said Murtagh had failed him deliberately one to many times and he wouldn't stand it anymore. He decided rather than simply kill Murtagh to make money from his slave. _Thorn's voice was a mixture of angry, sad and bitter.

Silence fell upon the company as they each processed Thorn's words. Saphira feeling sympathy for Thorn's pain, moved closer to the red dragon and placed her head near his, hoping to give comfort. Oromis was trying to ignore the wave of guilt that washed over him. Murtagh had been sold for letting him live, but his guilt quickly gave way to anger. How dare Galbatorix sell a Dragon Rider like a common slave?

"Is there any way of finding or tracking Murtagh in order to find him?" asked Nasuada. Oromis considered her question. Simply scrying Murtagh wasn't going to work, if he was somewhere none of them recognized they would still be no closer to finding him. However, Oromis decided to scry Murtagh later, if only to reassure himself that Murtagh was still alive. There was, however, a spell that might tell them what direction Murtagh could be found and that was a start.

"Thorn, do have anything on you that belongs and has been touched by Murtagh?" Oromis asked the ruby dragon.

_Yes, the saddle that the Dark King gave us. Murtagh made adjustments to it to make unsheathing a sword and getting on and off easier,_ replied Thorn, Oromis smiled slightly at the pride evident in Thorn's voice as he spoke of his Rider.

"That will do perfectly",said Oromis taking the saddle off Thorn's back.

"What are you going to do?" asked Eragon.

"I'm going to use a spell on this saddle that means when I put it on the ground the front will instantly face in the direction that Murtagh is in. Once we know what direction Murtagh is in, we have a better chance of finding him", Oromis explained as he walked at little away from the group.

"Eragon come here, it would be useful for you to learn this spell, but I must ask you not to ask any questions, as I need to concentrate."

"Yes, Master", said Eragon walking over to join his teacher.

As Oromis began muttering in the Ancient Language, Nasuada waited patiently with Thorn and Saphira, at first they sat in silence, but then Nasuada heard a deep voice in her head. She knew immediately it was Thorn and she got the impression that he was talking only to her.

_So you are Nasuada, it's nice to finally meet you._

_What do you mean?_

_Murtagh thought of you often when we were imprisoned in Uru'baen and it was in order to save you that Murtagh killed the Dwarf King, _said Thorn matter-of-factly. Nasuada tried to digest his words, so Murtagh hadn't forgotten her. Nasuada was pleased by the knowledge but that pleasure was overrun by confusion.

_Thorn, what do you mean Murtagh killed the Dwarf King to save me?_

_Murtagh was forced to swear in the Ancient Language that he would kill the Leader of the Varden. This oath sworn with the use of his true name would have to be obeyed but Murtagh couldn't bear the thought of hurting you so he convinced himself that the Dwarf King was the Varden's Leader so when the oath took effect it killed him and not you._

_But why did he want to save me? _Nasuada asked, desperately.

_Several reasons, he knew that if you died the Varden would be in chaos and the Dark King would easily have destroyed them, but the main reason was because Murtagh cares deeply about you._

Thorn suddenly rested his head so that Nasuada was looking into one large ruby eye. _Do you care about Murtagh?_

_Yes _was Nasuada's quiet reply. She felt Thorn's satisfaction in her mind and he returned his attention to Oromis, leaving Nasuada to think about what he had said and what it would mean if they managed to rescue Murtagh.

Nasuada was pulled out of her thoughts when she noticed that Oromis had stopped muttering and was lowering the saddle gently to the ground. As soon as it made contact with the grass it began to spin quickly clockwise, reminding Nasuada of a compass. After a minute it stopped spinning and the front of the saddle was facing North-East.

Oromis nodded with satisfaction as he looked down at the saddle at his feet. Now they knew what direction to begin their search, a search that Oromis intended to lead, no matter what. Murtagh's freedom had become Oromis's main concern and he was determined to repay the debt he owed the boy.

"Now that we know what direction Murtagh lies in, we can begin to try and set up a search", Oromis said, directing his words to Nasuada, who nodded her head before speaking,

"That may take time, we can't have Varden soldiers making a search without drawing attention to themselves; if Galbatorix figures out that we're looking for Murtagh he might have him moved or …" Nasuada could not finish her sentence but she didn't have too, Oromis understood, they all did. Galbatorix could have Murtagh killed if he thought they were looking for him but Oromis had another fear; at some point Galbatorix would know that his Black Hand was dead and Thorn was free and he wouldn't take that news well, he might hurt Murtagh in order to punish Thorn. Oromis knew it was vital to find Murtagh quickly before Galbatorix could cause the boy irreversible damage. 

As darkness descended onto the Varden camp, Oromis retired to his tent and, sitting on his bed, looked into the bowl of water in his hands and muttered the scrying spell quietly. As he looked into the water a picture of Murtagh appeared. The boy was lying down and appeared to be asleep but he couldn't see anything else for Murtagh was in a place that Oromis had never seen and, therefore, couldn't scry.

Keeping the image of Murtagh for a little while longer, Oromis studied the young man as he turned restlessly in his sleep. Murtagh looked filthy and his grey clothes were ragged, torn and stained. The Golden Rider looked at the dark marks that surrounded the boy's eyes and knew he hadn't slept properly in some time; Oromis suddenly wondered if Murtagh had ever had a proper night's sleep. Watching the son of Morzan toss and turn in his disturbed sleep, Oromis felt a pang of pity and compassion; no one should have to endure what Murtagh had suffered. Even though he knew Murtagh couldn't hear him, Oromis spoke to the image of the sleeping boy,

"Do not fear Murtagh, for you are not alone."


	14. Chapter 14: Rising Fame

**Chapter Fourteen: Rising Fame**

Many leagues away, Murtagh awoke suddenly after hearing someone say his name. His first thought was that it was Apollo but Murtagh saw that Apollo was still fast asleep on the bench opposite him. Lying back down on the cold, hard bench Murtagh wondered if he had imagined it, yet it had sounded so clear. It might have been Thorn but Murtagh knew his dragon's voice and the one that spoke his name wasn't as deep as Thorn's. In fact, Murtagh wasn't sure he had ever heard the voice before. Sighing Murtagh closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

The next morning as Murtagh waited to enter the arena, the voice was all but forgotten as Murtagh had more important things to focus on. Several weeks had passed since that first fight and in the many fights following, Murtagh had made a name for himself as a strong Gladiator; not something Murtagh was particularly proud of. It never failed to anger him that he was taking life for another man's profit, but it was either that or die and he was no good to Thorn dead. So Murtagh fought and killed when he was ordered to.

Murtagh stood and began walking through the row of Gladiators towards the gates of the arena. As he passed them the Gladiators nodded in respect and, along with the crowd they softly chanted his nickname, no one but Apollo knew his real name.

"Soldier! Soldier! Soldier!" chanted the crowd and Gladiators, as Murtagh approached the gates. Before he went out to face his opponent Apollo stood before him and gently pressed his forehead against Murtagh's and muttered the same thing he always said before either of them fought,

"Strength and Honour", Murtagh repeated the phrase and nodded to Apollo, who in the past few weeks, Murtagh had come to view as a mixture of father and brother. As Apollo stepped to the side, Murtagh took a deep breath and emptied himself of all emotion as he always did before a fight.

The gates swung open and Murtagh stepped calmly into the arena and as he stepped forward his four opponents stepped back. Murtagh placed the flat of his blade across his chest and gave a gentle bow. Tornac had always taught him to fight with honour and Murtagh respected his opponents. Before his opponents could react, Murtagh charged at his opponents and reached the first in seconds. His first sword stroke sliced straight through the gladiator's neck; he was dead before he could react. The second gladiator was a little more prepared and managed to block Murtagh's first sword thrust but was instantly on the defensive and within two minutes Murtagh had dispatched his second opponent by plunging his blade through the man's heart. Approaching his third opponent Murtagh let the gladiator come to him, luring him into a false sense of ease. As the gladiator charged Murtagh side stepped him and sliced across the gladiator's stomach. Leaving the third gladiator dying on the sandy floor of the arena, Murtagh approached his last opponent, as he did so he stopped to pick up the third gladiator's sword. The last gladiator was armed with only a spear and Murtagh soon sliced it in half and plunged both swords into the man's gut. He started to walk away but then came back and removed the swords and swinging them in a scissor like motion he decapitated the gladiator.

Suddenly, Murtagh, finally giving in to his anger, threw one of the bloody swords into the audience and yelled at the silently stunned crowd,

"ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED? ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED? IS THIS NOT WHY YOU ARE HERE!?" Throwing the second sword onto the ground, Murtagh spat on it with disgust and began to walk away, as he did so he was stopped by the sound of the crowd madly cheering,

"SOLDIER! SOLDIER! SOLDIER!" it seemed Murtagh could do no wrong in the eyes of the crowd and he was stunned as they continued to cheer him. The crowd had found a gladiatorial hero, whether Murtagh liked it or not.


	15. Chapter 15: Galbatorix's Plan

**Chapter Fifteen: Galbatorix's Plan**

King Galbatorix observed the mess his anger had made. Five servants lay dead at the base of the throne, including the poor soul whose job it had been to tell the King that Thorn had joined the Varden and that he had helped Oromis kill the Black Hand. Sitting on his throne, all the King could think about now was revenge against that treacherous and ungrateful dragon, which had ruined the Kings well laid plans.

_Ungrateful wretch, how dare he defy me? If it wasn't for me, he never would have found his Rider and would still be languishing in his egg! _King Galbatorix screamed at his own dragon, Shruikan, who had watched the King unleash his rage with amusement. Shruikan wasn't the least bit surprised that Thorn had turned on the King; in fact he had been expecting something like this to happen for some time. Shruikan had always liked the young pair. Murtagh was brave and had lasted longer than anyone under the King's torture and even when forced into slavery, he never lost his spirit, although he came close several times. The black dragon felt that Thorn had chosen extremely well when he had picked his Rider and he had grown to respect the red pair and, though he would never admit it to the King, he had grown rather fond of the pair, who had talked to him in the dragon hold rather than simply running away in fear and had treated him with respect. He was secretly glad Thorn had made it to the Varden and hoped that he would find Murtagh before the King.

King Galbatorix, however, was not fond of the red dragon and his Rider and he had decided that those two had caused more trouble than they were worth. But how to punish them, and then it came to him, he would punish Thorn by taking from him that which he loved most in the world.

"Guard, send for my spy that has been keeping an eye on Murtagh." The guard, who was relived to still be alive, left the throne room as quickly as possible. He returned five minutes later with one of the King's spies in tow.

The spy bowed to the King then waited patiently for orders.

"Who bought Murtagh and to what use has he been put?"

"Murtagh Morzansson was sold to a man named Proximo, who has employed Murtagh as a gladiator. I believe Murtagh is a very popular gladiator and has earned Proximo a great deal of money", the spy replied. The King nodded and dismissed the spy.

"Guard, spread the word across the Empire and beyond that I am holding 100 days of games to celebrate my 100th year as King of Alagaesia. Put up posters and send out invitations to as many warriors and gladiators as you can find. Make sure an invitation is sent to a man named Proximo." The guard nodded and left immediately.

_What do you intend to do?_ Asked Shruikan who was intrigued as to what the King's plan was.

_I will hold these games, and as a gladiator, I will make sure that Murtagh takes part and is killed in the arena. Not only do I get to see Murtagh die but Thorn will lose the one he loves above all others,_ the King replied gleefully.

Shruikan didn't reply but he had doubts about this plan. Murtagh was a great swordsman and few could match him in combat, having him killed in the arena was not going to be easy, and if he did succeed they would have to deal with Thorn's wrath which would be terrible. Secretly Shruikan hoped Murtagh survived.


	16. Chapter 16: Win the Crowd

**Chapter Sixteen: Win the Crowd**

Murtagh stood in Proximo's private study. It was a large square room, bookcases lined the walls and a mahogany desk sat in the centre of the room. Behind the desk, dressed in a golden robe was Proximo. Murtagh stood before him in his usual grey tunic and pants. His clothes were as ragged as ever and filthy, the only time Murtagh was allowed to clean up was before a fight; it never failed to amuse Murtagh that he was only given clean clothes and a proper bath when he was being sent out to fight and die.

"What do you want? Hmmmm? Girl? Boy?" asked Proximo, studying Murtagh with an intense interest that surprised Murtagh.

"You sent for me?" Murtagh replied, hoping to get this visit over with as quickly as possible, whilst wondering what Proximo wanted with him. So far Proximo had not spoken to him and this sudden interest worried Murtagh; what Murtagh didn't know was that Proximo had been keeping a close eye on his boy-soldier and Murtagh's outburst in the arena yesterday had made him realise that it was time to meet him.

"Yes I did. Your good, Soldier, but you're not that good. You could be magnificent."

"I am required to kill so I kill. That is enough." Murtagh couldn't keep the distaste from his voice as he spoke but Proximo either didn't notice or didn't care, for he continued,

"It's enough for the provinces but not for the Empire. The King has organized a series of spectacles to commemorate his 100th year on the throne. So after five years scratching a living in flea infested villages we are finally going back to where we belong, the Colosseum. Oh you should see the Colosseum, Soldier. Fifty thousand spectators watching every movement of your sword, willing you to make that killer blow. The silence before you strike, and the noise afterwards, it rises, rises like a storm, as if you were the Thunder God himself." Proximo spoke with such passion, that Murtagh was intrigued.

"You were a gladiator?" he asked, looking at his Master with renewed interest.

"Yes, I was" replied Proximo, quietly.

"You won your freedom?" asked Murtagh, fascinated, he had never heard of someone winning their freedom before but if it was possible to kill the King and win his freedom all at the same time, then Murtagh was determined to do all in his power to achieve that.

"Long time ago King Galbatorix presented me with a Rudius, it's just a wooden sword, a symbol for your freedom. He touched me on the shoulder once, and I was free", explained his master. Murtagh took a step towards Proximo and decided to answer the very first question his master had asked, at the same time Murtagh was beginning to form a plan to get his revenge on King Galbatorix.

"You asked me what I want. I, too, want to stand in front of the King, as you did." Murtagh did not add that he wished to kill the King but kept that to himself.

"Then listen to me. Learn from me. I wasn't the best because I killed quickly. I was the best because the crowd loved me. Win the crowd, win your freedom", Proximo told Murtagh, still gazing at him intently.

"I will win the crowd. I will give them something they have never seen before", Murtagh replied with conviction.

"So, Soldier, we shall go to Uru'baen together and have bloody adventures and the great whore will suckle us until we are fat and happy and can suckle no more. And then, when enough men have died, perhaps you will have your freedom. Here use this", said Proximo as he handed Murtagh black armour that had twin silver horses engraved on it, as well as a silver tree.

"Is this what you wore when you were a gladiator?" asked Murtagh, gazing with interest at the armour, it was light and well-polished but not only that but no one had ever given Murtagh one of their treasures before.

"Yes, it helped me win my freedom; perhaps it will help you win yours, Soldier."

Murtagh nodded and a guard came to take him back to the slave block. As he went he thought of Tornac, and silently told him that revenge would soon be his.


	17. Chapter 17: Finding Murtagh

**Chapter Seventeen: Finding Murtagh**

Eragon looked into the mug he was holding and his thoughts turned, as they often did lately, to Murtagh. He, Oromis, Glaedr and Saphira had spent several hours talking with Thorn about Murtagh and what they had experienced at the hands of the King. Oromis felt the more information they had the easier it would be to find Murtagh. But Eragon couldn't get rid of the pictures of torture that Thorn had painted in his head. His brother had suffered horribly for letting him go and Eragon knew he would never be able to understand the amount of pain Murtagh had endured on his behalf and more than once.

"You're thinking of Murtagh again aren't you?" asked Roran, Eragon's cousin and Varden General. Eragon looked up at his cousin and simply nodded his head.

"Is Oromis any closer to finding him?"

"I don't think so. We know in what direction that he was taken but it's hard to pin point an exact location without more information on who bought him. But Oromis and Glaedr are determined to find and rescue him no matter what", explained Eragon, thinking of his teacher, who had been focusing a great deal of his energy on finding the Red Rider.

"They'll find him and I'm sure he's alright, from what I've heard about him he sounds like a strong guy", Roran told Eragon encouragingly. Eragon nodded but his cousin's words reminded him of what Oromis had said before the battle of Belatona.

"_No? I'd have thought you would be proud to have a brother who chooses to suffer torture rather than destroy his enemies ally. Such an act takes courage and strength beyond what most men possess."_

Eragon had renounced Murtagh the moment he knew his half-brother was serving Galbatorix, but had he been too quick to judge? Had he condemned Murtagh without trying to understand what his brother had suffered? The answer to that was yes, speaking with Thorn had completely changed his view on Murtagh. Eragon understood now that Murtagh was not a willing servant but an unwilling slave, or at least he was until Galbatorix sold him. Eragon felt anger rise within him when he thought about what the King had done. How dare he sell Murtagh?

Eragon was brought out of his worrying thoughts when a messenger arrived.

"Lady Nasuada requests your presence, Shadeslayer," the messenger stated between breaths. Sighing Eragon got to his feet, nodded to Roran and followed the messenger to Nasuada's tent, where Eragon found Oromis and Arya waiting with Nasuada. Oromis didn't waste time and went straight to the point.

"We believe we may have found Murtagh. At least we know where he may be heading." They now had Eragon's full attention.

"What? Where?" demanded Eragon.

"Our spy's brought us this poster", said Nasuada, handing Eragon a poster that depicted a gladiator fighting and announced that a hundred days of games was to be held to honour Galbatorix's 100th year on the throne.

"How does this help?" asked Eragon confused.

"When we knew the direction Murtagh had been taken, we spread word around the North-Eastern region of Alagaesia that a boy of nineteen has been kidnapped and sold by slavers, we gave a description of Murtagh but gave no name and offered a reward for any information on his whereabouts. Several people have since come forward stating that they have witnessed a boy of his description fighting as a gladiator for a man named Proximo. Proximo, our spy informs us, has been invited to take part in these games, and has accepted; we understand Murtagh is his best gladiator so he will undoubtedly take him with him. This means that Murtagh is being taken to Uru'baen by his master to fight in the Colosseum", explained Oromis, looking upset.

"So what are we going to do?" asked Eragon, hoping that they had a plan. It was Nasuada, who answered,

"We're going to try and get an audience with Proximo and see if we can buy Murtagh from him." Eragon wasn't sure how he felt about the Varden buying his brother but then suddenly he realised that if they did they could instantly set him free.

"Would you like me to tell Thorn?" asked Eragon. Thorn was currently hunting with Saphira, although she felt pity towards the red dragon, Saphira still couldn't rid herself of her suspicion of Thorn and had been keeping a close eye on him.

"Yes, please Eragon", said Nasuada, giving a gentle smile. Eragon sensed a new hope and excitement in Nasuada since they had shared the news about Murtagh.

"Do we know when Murtagh will arrive in Uru'baen?" asked Eragon.

"Proximo's gladiators are scheduled to arrive next week. We want to free Murtagh before he has to fight", Oromis explained. Eragon nodded and as there was little else to discuss Eragon left to tell Roran the news and to await Thorn and Saphira's return. Eragon was excited to tell Thorn that he might have his Rider back soon.

"That's great news, Eragon, but…?" said Roran after Eragon told him the news about Murtagh.

"But what?" asked Eragon, Roran hesitated before answering his cousin,

"It's just that, Murtagh is Proximo's best gladiator, right?" Eragon nodded wondering where Roran was going with this.

"Well, what makes you think Proximo will sell him? The Varden don't have a lot of money and they need the majority of what they have to run the army. If Murtagh is his best gladiator as the spy says than this Proximo isn't going to let him go cheaply, especially as he could earn quite a lot of money off Murtagh in Uru'baen, not to mention the fact that he'll want to make a profit", explained Roran, who Eragon was just realising could be very practical at times. But he couldn't deny that his cousin had a point. Murtagh wasn't going to be cheap and the Varden was unlikely to give up money to save the life of a man they considered a traitor. Very few in the Varden even knew that they were trying to save the Red Rider, their efforts to rescue Murtagh had been kept quite as many would object. The Varden was just getting used to Thorn's presence, Eragon knew people objected to the ruby dragon but no one was stupid enough to anger a huge dragon that could eat them in seconds. Eragon knew from overheard whispers that many believed Murtagh was dead, why else would his dragon be here, looking miserable, if he was alive?

Eragon, suddenly began to worry that telling Thorn would give him false hope, especially if they failed to convince Proximo to part with Murtagh. Thorn was unhappy enough being separated from Murtagh for so long and so with little news. Eragon decided that, for now at least, he would leave it to be a surprise.


	18. Chapter 18: The Return to Uru'baen

**Chapter Eighteen: The Return to Uru'baen**

Sitting on the roof of the slave building on the outskirts of Dras Leona, looking out over the city, Murtagh and Apollo sat in a companionable silence. They were a part of the fifteen strong gladiators that Proximo was taking to Uru'baen to compete in the games. Dras Leona was their last stop before they continued their journey to the capital. Murtagh could not deny that he felt a twinge of fear whenever he thought of the capital and all that he had endured there. But with fear came a sense of excitement, Thorn was surely still in the capital and Murtagh had hopes of either seeing or speaking to his dragon.

"It's out there somewhere, my home", said Apollo, whose words dragged Murtagh out of his thoughts. Looking at his friend sat next to him Apollo continued,

"My wife will be cooking dinner, whilst my daughter sets the table." Murtagh was intrigued, neither man had said a lot about their past, only volunteering such information every now and then. Murtagh had not considered the thought that Apollo would have a family; he had simply assumed that Apollo was a bachelor.

"You must miss your family terribly?" said Murtagh.

"Every second of every day, I miss them", Apollo replied. His words made Murtagh think not only about Thorn but Tornac as well. Not a day went by that Murtagh didn't think about or miss both, they were the only true family he had ever known; but thoughts of Tornac brought with them a wave of guilt and Murtagh wondered if he would ever be able to see him again and try to get him to understand why he had let Oromis live, he wanted a chance to explain himself.

"Do you think you'll ever see them again?" asked Murtagh, uncertainly. Smiling Apollo answered, "Yes, but probably not in life."

"You believe you will see your family again when you die?" Murtagh asked, thinking of, not just Tornac but his mother as well, there were so many questions he wanted to ask her, like why had she saved Eragon but not him?

"Of course, but I will die soon, they will not die for many years; I'll have to wait", said Apollo. Murtagh suddenly wondered if his mother and Tornac were waiting for him.

"But you would? Wait for them?" asked Murtagh looking at Apollo, who was gazing into the distance. Turning his gaze to look at the younger man, Apollo said with a gentle smile, "Of course."

Murtagh looked at the man who had become dear to him, like Tornac had been and he thought of the personal thoughts Apollo had shared so openly and said,

"You see, my foster father and my mother are already waiting for me." Gently putting a comforting arm around Murtagh's shoulder's Apollo gazed at him with a fatherly expression and offered comfort and encouragement.

"You will see them again, but not yet, not yet."

The two friends spent the rest of their time in Dras Leona chatting and enjoyed a few rare moments of peace.

Two more days they spent holed up in that wooden cage on wheels before they, at last reached Uru'baen on the evening of the third day. Murtagh felt his fear and uncertainty grow as the cage rolled its way through the streets of Alagaesia's capital. As they made their way through the city many of the folk of Uru'baen stopped to watch them pass, children ran alongside the cage laughing happily and with excitement.

Murtagh wondered where they were going to be taken and silently prayed that no one would recognize him. He didn't want Galbatorix to know he was here, not yet anyway. But as the cage trundled on, Murtagh realized that he was being taken to a part of the city that was unfamiliar to him.

After travelling for what felt like hours, the cage came to a halt and they were made to get out. The moment he was out of the cage, Murtagh tried to work out were in the city they were. But Murtagh had never been here before; suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and Apollo gently turned him round. Murtagh looked at Apollo and only then did he notice the look of astonishment on Apollo's face. Following his gaze, Murtagh quickly discovered what had left everyone in stunned silence, for there towering above them stood The Colosseum.

The Colosseum was built in the Golden Age but not, remarkably by Riders, it was built in their honour by the citizens of Alagaesia. Its outer wall was 157ft high, its 615ft long and 510ft wide. It's the largest structure in all of Alagaesia and a remarkable example of human engineering. It was used to host games, where warriors would prove their worth in the arena, even the Riders used it to demonstrate their skill with a blade but it hadn't been used for nearly a century, not since Galbatorix had taken the throne. Why then had the King decided to use it now?

"I didn't know men could build such things", said Apollo, still staring up at The Colosseum, Murtagh, however, was thinking back to the day when he had stood in Proximo's study and he had told Murtagh a little about The Colosseum, Murtagh now understood why Proximo had spoken with wonder when he had mentioned it to him.

Murtagh's attention was suddenly drawn away from the incredible structure before him when Proximo came and stood before him. Looking Murtagh intently in the eye he repeated the advice he had given in his study,

"Win the Crowd." Murtagh nodded his understanding and for a moment the three men, Proximo, Murtagh and Apollo stood side by side and gazed with wonder at The Colosseum, until Empire guards began to usher them away to their sleeping quarters.


	19. Chapter 19: Nasuada

**Chapter Nineteen: Nasuada**

Sitting behind her desk that was piled high with papers, Nasuada listened as the werecat before her informed her that Proximo and his slaves had arrived and Murtagh was amongst them. They were being kept in a large compound where all the visitors and their slaves would be staying. It was heavily guarded and breaking in undetected would be incredibly difficult.

Nasuada sighed, thanked the werecat and sat back in her chair. Visiting Proximo was out of the question, guards would recognize her or Eragon and Oromis was crippled so Nasuada was reluctant to send him unaided into danger. However, maybe she could get Proximo to come to her. It would be difficult but she had to try, for Murtagh's sake.

But Nasuada had other problems to worry about as well. The Varden had reached Uru'baen just hours after dawn and they had managed to camp a mile or so from the city, unfortunately there was nowhere to hide such a large army so they were visible to the sentry's on the city wall. As yet no one had bothered them and Galbatorix had made no attempt to attack, this surprised Nasuada; surely the King would not want the Varden to stay so close for long, and yet, he had made no attempt to attack.

Spies inside the city had reported only a tightening of the guard around the Palace as the only response to the Vardens presence. However, others had reported that Galbatorix may bring in troops from further north. The Varden knew that they were due to attack the capital any day now but something seemed to be holding their leader back.

Nasuada wanted to get Murtagh out of the city before she attacked but if she couldn't she would attack and just hope he survived, it was the best she could do.

"Lady Nasuada?" Nasuada looked up at the voice and saw Oromis standing at the entrance of her tent.

"Forgive me, Oromis, I was miles away. Please come in." Oromis entered the tent and sat in the chair opposite Nasuada's.

"Is everything alright, Nasuada?" asked Oromis sounding concerned.

"I have been informed that Murtagh has arrived in Uru'baen and is currently staying in a slave compound next to The Colosseum. I was trying to work out how I could persuade Proximo to come to me."

"That will be difficult, I agree, but why not send myself to Proximo? I am not known by these humans in Uru'baen and could easily pretend to be a buyer."

Nasuada hesitated before responding, she didn't want to insult the Elfin Rider and she thought carefully about her words before responding.

"Wouldn't it be dangerous for any of us to go so far in to the city unaided, Oromis-elda?"

"No I don't think so. I am only going to talk to the man not start a fight. As long as I make it clear that I wish to speak to Proximo and mean no one any harm, I should be fine. I will of course use magic to hide my elfin ears. I doubt anyone will take me for a Rider if I am alone." Oromis spoke with such confidence that Nasuada knew that it would be pointless arguing with him but she still felt anxious about this plan. As if he sensed her worries Oromis said,

"Why not send a messenger to Proximo on my behalf, stating that I have heard a great deal about one of his gladiators and am interested in buying. If I am expected it will be easier to enter." After thinking it over for several long minutes, Nasuada reluctantly agreed. Handing Oromis a pen and paper she watched him write his message to Proximo, signing it with a false name. Within ten minutes a messenger had been found and sent to Uru'baen with instructions to leave the Varden from behind and circle round to make it look like he had come from the north.

That night Nasuada didn't sleep. Oromis' plan was full of risk and she wondered if she was doing the right thing. She tried to think about what her father would have done. But she couldn't quite work out what he might have done; after all he had imprisoned Murtagh but then given him a chance to prove himself. But no matter how much she thought about it, she came back with questions, that she simply couldn't answer, was she putting personal feeling above her duty to the Varden? Could having three Riders against one help them to win? Should she have attacked the capital straight away?

Morning came but it didn't bring answers to Nasuada's questions; what it did bring though was a reply from Proximo. It seemed Proximo was a least willing to listen to what Oromis had to offer. He would meet Oromis at The Colosseum tomorrow and would speak to him after Murtagh and the other slaves had fought. Oromis would be sat in a special box seat with Proximo.

_Well at least he's willing to talk to us_, Nasuada thought as she read the message. But would he sell? Nasuada had doubts about that but had kept them to herself.


	20. Chapter 20: The Colosseum

**Chapter Twenty: The Colosseum**

King Galbatorix sat on a high backed chair in the Royal box inside The Colosseum. His new Black Hand, a hooked nosed woman with a mean gleam in her eyes and dressed in black pants and tunic, sat on his right. On his left sat his favourite concubine, dressed in a green velvet dress. Shruikan sat on a pedestal that served as a roof for spectators and looked down on the arena with interest.

_I hear Proximo is furious with you_, Shruikan commented to his Rider. Galbatorix's self-satisfied arrogance seeped through their mental link, as well as Shruikan's amusement.

_Of course he's mad at me, he's about to lose all his gladiators and probably a lot of unmade money as well,_ Galbatorix said with smug satisfaction.

_What if Murtagh survives?_ asked Shruikan knowing full well that his remark would irritate his Rider.

_He will not survive!_ Galbatorix all but screamed at his dragon, he heard Shruikan's laughter through their link and it only served to annoy the King further. Shruikan, on the other hand was starting to have fun.

_You don't know that and, besides, he's survived everything else you threw at him, why should this time be any different. Murtagh is a great swordsman and few can match him, that's way you enslaved him in the first place. What makes these gladiators that he will face any different?_

The King didn't respond and Shruikan began to wonder if his Rider was going to answer him at all, until after several minutes Galbatorix said,

_Murtagh will be broken after Tornac's death and after being separated from Thorn for so long. His fellow slaves will die and he will be helplessly outnumbered, even a great swordsman cannot defeat many enemies at once. He will fall, just you wait and see. _The King spoke with such conviction anyone else would have simply agreed with him, but Shruikan wasn't just anyone, he was the King's dragon and he didn't have a lot of faith in this plan.

The Colosseum was full within ten minutes and when everyone was seated the King gestured to one of his magicians, who were serving as the games announcer, to begin.

"Ladies and Gentleman, on this the 23rd day of the games, the King is proud to give you something that has never been seen before. As many of you know, the King's rise to power came after a hard fought battle between our majesty's mighty Forsworn and the savage rebels. Today this great victory is to be retold right here in this very arena. So, Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the arena, courtesy of Proximo, the Rebels."

Seven gladiators entered the arena to a chorus of boos from the crowd. Galbatorix scanned the gladiators knowing Murtagh was down there but he couldn't make him out. All the slaves had helmets on which made distinguishing them from one and other difficult. For a second he toyed with the idea of searching their minds, he would find Murtagh easily enough that way but decided this might ruin the fun, so he decided to simply enjoy watching all of them die and pretending it was Murtagh over and over again. Yes, the King was going to enjoy this.

Once the gladiators playing the rebels were positioned in the centre of the arena all of them stood to face the King and declared,

"We who are about to die salute you." The King acknowledged them but he couldn't help but notice that one gladiator had remained silent. His helmet left his face hidden but the King had no doubt that it was Murtagh, who else would dare disrespect Galbatorix by refusing to salute.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, His Majesty is proud to introduce, The Forsworn!" Out of the doors burst gladiators on the back of fighting chariots. There were about six chariots with two gladiators per chariot, one was steering the chariots whilst the other was armed with a spear. As they entered the arena the crowd cheered with enthusiasm. The King smiled, as he watched the gladiators playing the Forsworn encircle Murtagh and his friends; it looked to Galbatorix as if his gladiators were rounding them up like cattle. The King had a little laugh to himself, oh yes; he was really going to enjoy this.

Meanwhile, in one of the boxes reserved for the richest of spectators, Oromis sat beside Proximo looking down at the gladiators and trying to discern which one was Murtagh. Their helmets made this very difficult, however, like the King, Oromis noticed that one gladiator did not salute Galbatorix; surely that was Murtagh, who else would dare to so openly and blatantly disrespect the King.

Looking at Proximo sat next to him, Oromis took a second to reflect on how surprisingly easy it had been to get to The Colosseum. He had gone to the gates of Uru'baen and announced to the guards that he had an appointment to see Proximo; to his surprise a short, stout man standing just inside the gates spoke to explain that he had been sent by Proximo to escort him to The Colosseum. Since Oromis had been escorted into the box by the man, Proximo had barely spoken except to introduce himself, this may have been because, judging from his body language of tense shoulders, balled fists and the frown on his face, Proximo was very unhappy about something and whatever it was it was making him tense.

Oromis had attempted to learn what he could about Proximo by asking his escort simple questions, like what was Proximo like? Did he enjoy working for him? But the escort had remained stubbornly silent and Oromis gave up his attempts realizing he was getting nowhere.

Oromis turned his attention back to the gladiators in the arena and watched in horror as Murtagh and his fellow slaves were surrounded by their opponents who were all on chariots and were clearly wearing better armour. Oromis wondered how Murtagh and the others were going to survive when they were facing opponents who appeared to be more skilled and clearly had an advantage with their chariots.

Oromis wasn't sure he wanted to watch this; it was so cruel, forcing innocent people into battles they were unlikely to win. This was what many slaves had to face and endure; situations they weren't prepared for and were unlikely to survive. Oromis didn't agree with robbing any creature of their free will, no one had the right to do that to another, this was why Oromis strongly objected to slavery and why he was determined to put an end to it. But right now Oromis had to forget his hatred of slavery, especially if he was to convince Proximo that he was interested in buying a slave. He decided he would watch, if only to make sure Murtagh survived but that didn't mean he had to enjoy what he was about to witness.

Whilst Oromis, Proximo and Galbatorix prepared themselves for what seemed to be certain defeat for Murtagh and his fellow slaves, Murtagh himself was trying to work out how he was going to survive this. He knew using magic was out, that would give him away and once his opponents knew he could use magic he would be their first target and besides that would feel like cheating. Murtagh was certain that none of his opponents could use magic, if they could Galbatorix was unlikely to put them to slave work; these gladiators were simply warriors and Murtagh was going to honour Tornac's memory by fighting these gladiators fairly without magic, it's what Tornac would expect of him.

Thinking of Tornac made Murtagh remember a lesson he had once taught him.

_If you're in danger Murtagh and things seem helpless, look around you and use what you have around you to help you survive. Remember Murtagh, there's always something._

Murtagh didn't have to look to know that what he had around him were his fellow slaves. Maybe, if they worked together like he and Apollo had in their very first fight, they could survive this.

"Do you guys remember our first gladiator fight when we had to fight in pairs and we all survived?" Murtagh asked without taking his eyes of their opponents, who were still circling but getting ever closer. He heard a few of his allies mutter their yes's.

"We can do the same here. We can survive if we work together, but only if we work together, if we try and fight as individuals we won't last long, any of us. Understand?" Murtagh heard their confirmations and nodded.

Each of Proximo's gladiators was equipped with a sword and shield. Murtagh looked at the chariots and knew their shield would be their best defence against them. He quickly came up with a plan.

"When I say "Now" place your shields on the ground and put your body's behind them. Make a blockage with them that's too strong for them to simply run over. When I shout "Now" a second time push your shields forward without breaking ranks. Okay?" Murtagh said this as quickly as he could as the nearest chariot was getting ever closer, but his companions yelled their understanding.

Murtagh watched unblinkingly as the chariot and its occupants got closer and closer. He waited and waited and only when the chariot was almost on them did he shout,

"NOW!"

As soon as he shouted, Murtagh and the other slaves placed their shields on the ground next to each other, leaving no gaps and putting the weight of their bodies against them so that they formed a small line, this was done within seconds of Murtagh's command and seconds after it was done he shouted again. This time at the sound of the shout they all pushed against their shields as one. As they did so the first chariot reached them but when they pushed, their shields connected with the wheels and using their strength and momentum they pushed the chariot over. The horses pulling it along simply kept running, now dragging the chariot along on its side. One of the gladiators on the chariot fell under it and was crushed by its weight. The gladiator steering the chariot didn't let go of the reins and its impact with the shields caused him to be propelled forward under the horse's feet, he was trampled to death as the following chariots made no effort to steer clear of his body.

Murtagh, however, had little time to spare any thoughts for their opponents' fate. The second chariot was bearing down upon them. Would their trick work a second time?


	21. Chapter 21: Unmasked

**Chapter Twenty-One: Unmasked**

Shruikan watched with growing amusement as Murtagh and his friends repeated their trick and, incredibly the second chariot fell for it. Shruikan snorted his amusement causing smoke to erupt from his nostrils,

_Stupid humans; and you actually think these idiots will beat Murtagh?_ Shruikan taunted his Rider; all he got back in return was a wave of irritation. Shruikan couldn't deny that if Murtagh and his friends survived he wouldn't let Galbatorix forget. Today may just turn out to be a good day.

Turning his attention back to the arena and Shruikan noticed that a third chariot had been dispatched in the same way as the first two, which left only three chariots. Shruikan was impressed, with a simple manoeuvre Murtagh had halved the number of opponents he faced. But the remaining chariots were now wise to their tricks and keeping to the arena wall, whilst throwing their spears. Shruikan couldn't deny that he was looking forward to seeing what Murtagh and his friends would do to kill the remaining chariots. The black dragon made no effort to hide his feelings and this only served to irritate his Rider further. Shruikan settled in to a comfortable position and made sure his Rider could feel his enjoyment of watching his well thought out plan go wrong. Shruikan decided that when it was over the words _I told you so_ would be the first Galbatorix heard.

Meanwhile, down in the arena, Murtagh was working on a way to defeat the remaining chariots when he heard Demetri give a cry of pain. Looking in the direction of the noise he saw Demetri on his knees a spear in his left thigh, a chariot bearing down on him. Without hesitation or thought Murtagh, ditched his shield and threw himself at Demetri, knocking him out of the chariots path. Sensing a chance, Murtagh ran behind the chariot, which he quickly began to catch. The chariot couldn't go at full speed because of the debris and bodies littering the floor, debris Murtagh could hurdle over with ease. The gladiator with the spear, on spotting Murtagh closing in threw his spear, which Murtagh dodged easily. Once he was right behind the chariot he jumped lithely on board, dispatching the, now weapon less gladiator, with a swift stab to the gut. The driver didn't have time to figure out what was happening before Murtagh slit his throat. Jumping down from the chariot, Murtagh noticed that his fellow slaves had taken a leaf out of his book and had ambushed the penultimate chariot, jumping on board and killing the gladiators. That left just one chariot and two gladiators left. All seven of Proximo's gladiators were still standing.

Murtagh knew how to get rid of this chariot, running to his friends, he ordered them to use the debris to make a barricade. Whilst they started that Murtagh with Apollo and Demetri at his side ran to one of the few horses still standing, cutting it away from the chariot, Murtagh jumped on the horses back, at first the horse reared clearly spooked, but a few quick words in its ear soon calmed it and Murtagh set the horse off at a run. He immediately steered his horse in front of the remaining chariot and then lay low in on the horse, presenting a smaller target for his opponents spear. The gladiator wasn't stupid; he clearly wasn't going to throw the spear until he had a good aim. The gladiator didn't take any notice of Murtagh's friends building a barricade; he had already identified Murtagh as the main threat. Murtagh made sure the chariot remained on his heels as he headed straight for the barricade his friends had finished erecting. Once he reached it his horse acted on instinct and jumped over, however while horses can jump barricades, chariots can't, so when his opponents' horses jumped over the barricade the chariot simply collided with it, causing both gladiators to fall off and they were soon dispatched by the waiting slaves.

With the last gladiators dead, Murtagh jumped down off the horse and was soon surrounded by his fellow slaves, who all shook his hand and patted him on the back. Apollo smiled down at Murtagh and laughing with giddy adrenaline the two friends embraced. Against the odds, they had won and as Murtagh and his friends stood in the middle of the arena, they suddenly heard the roar of the crowd as they cheered and a chant of "Rebels! Rebels!" reverberated around The Colosseum. Murtagh knew then that he and his friends had not only won the fight but they had also won the crowd.

Meanwhile in the Royal Box, King Galbatorix fumed, as the crowd cheered and his treacherous dragon said _I told you so_ and laughed, the King knew he had to control his temper; not something he was renowned for doing. He would have to find another way to kill Murtagh. Thinking quickly, he called his announcer over, who looked terrified to say the least.

"My history may be a little hazy but shouldn't the Rebels have lost the battle against the Forsworn?" the King asked the terrified announcer.

"W…well, y…yes, Sir," the announcer stammered wondering how badly this was going to hurt. To his surprise, however, Galbatorix actually smiled and said,

"No worries, I've always quite liked surprises. That gladiator, who is he?" Galbatorix asked pointing to the gladiator he was sure was Murtagh.

"They call him the Soldier, Sire" the announcer answered, wondering where this was going.

"I'd like to meet him," the King said. The announcer nodded and left to make the necessary arrangements for the King entering the arena to meet a gladiator.

In the middle of the arena, Murtagh looked up at the Royal Box and searched for the King but he was no longer there. Just as Murtagh was starting to wonder where the King had got to, he felt Apollo gently tap him on the shoulder, and then pointed at the approaching guard.

"Gladiator, the King wishes to meet you," the guard announced pointing at Murtagh.

"I am at the King's service." The moment he answered, the Kings personal Guard came marching out of the doors, Murtagh, himself, had used to enter the arena.

"Drop your weapons," the guard demanded. All the slaves looked to Murtagh and it was clear they would only follow his command. Murtagh nodded and dropped his own sword to the ground, this wasn't the time to kill the King, Murtagh sensed; besides he wanted to see Thorn again before he died and he had no doubt that killing the King whilst surrounded by his personal Guard would mean death for sure. Seeing Murtagh drop his weapon, his friends did the same.

Once they were all unarmed the guard formed two columns, facing each other. The King entered walking between the two columns until he stood in front of the slaves, who were all bowing, including Murtagh who, this close to Galbatorix, didn't want to stand out.

"Rise. Well, your fame is well deserved, Soldier. I don't think there's ever been a gladiator like you. Why don't you remove your helmet and tell us all your real name. You do have a name?" said Galbatorix cheerfully. Murtagh watched the King carefully, he knew from experience that not all was as it seemed; instinct told him that something was wrong and as Tornac always said,

_Trust your instincts Murtagh, because they are rarely wrong._

Murtagh had no desire to reveal himself to the King so easily, so he answered,

"My name is Gladiator." Murtagh then did something no one else would have dared; he turned his back on his King. That was when the King lost control of his temper.

"How dare you turn your back to me! You will remove your helmet and tell me your name!" Galbatorix yelled at Murtagh's back. Realising that there was no way out of it, Murtagh took a deep breath and removed his helmet, and slowly he turned to face the man he hated most.

"My name is Murtagh Morzansson. Son to a murdered Father. Rider to an abused dragon and I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next" declared Murtagh furiously whilst looking Galbatorix straight in the eye, something he had never done in his entire life. Galbatorix, however, didn't seem overly surprised to see Murtagh, but he did seem surprised by the venom in Murtagh's voice and his courage to look Galbatorix right in the eye. Still looking at Murtagh, Galbatorix stepped back and signalled his Guard, who instantly drew their weapons and pointed them at Murtagh. His fellow slaves instantly came to stand at his side, especially Apollo. Murtagh knew they were willing to fight for him but he knew it would be pointless, they were all unarmed.

However, Murtagh was about to get some unexpected help. When the crowd realized what was happening they immediately began to boo. Suddenly a new chant was carried around The Colosseum,

"Live! Live! Live!" It was clear the crowd had found themselves a new hero but more than that they had found someone who had the courage to stand up to the King, someone who wasn't afraid to disobey, someone who was prepared to do what they wished they could. The people of the Empire would like to stand up for themselves but no one was willing to make the King their enemy, and here was a slave who was willing to do just that.

Whatever the King had expected it wasn't to have his people side with a slave over him. Murtagh felt satisfaction at seeing the King's shocked expression. Now Galbatorix looked worried, he could ignore the crowd and give the order to kill but that would turn the crowd against him and might just cause a riot. Galbatorix liked to think of the Empire's citizens as being on his side and he on theirs, it was the message he sent to convince people to fight in his army against the Varden. Galbatorix didn't want to turn his people against him, but he didn't want to let Murtagh live either.

Galbatorix looked at Murtagh with undisguised hatred but Murtagh saw something else in those blood red eyes that he never thought to see; Fear. The King had not expected Murtagh retain popularity with the crowd once his identity was revealed but the crowd clearly didn't care who he was, he had proven himself brave and honourable.

Galbatorix held up his left hand and with his hand shaking, from what Murtagh suspected was suppressed rage, he gave the thumbs up sign that signalled that Murtagh was to live. The crowd cheered and the King gave Murtagh one more furious glare before turning around and storming out of the arena. Murtagh looked around at the cheering crowd, aware that they had just saved his life, suddenly Apollo grabbed his right wrist and lifted his arm triumphantly into the air and when he did the crowd went wild. Apollo looked at Murtagh and gave him a triumphant smile, which Murtagh happily returned.

In a box Proximo was cheering with the rest of the crowd, whilst Oromis stood and applauded. As he looked down at Murtagh, Oromis couldn't help feel a sense of pride towards the young man in the middle of the arena, he had triumphed against the odds and won the favour of the crowd. He had fought well and shown strong tactical knowledge in battle. Whilst he was proud of Murtagh, he also felt a sense of relief, he was still alive but mixed with that was apprehension, the King had looked furious, Murtagh was going to pay for this victory.

Meanwhile, on a plateau overlooking the arena, a massive black dragon let his smug satisfaction flow to his Rider, chuckling at the wave of fury he got back. 


	22. Chapter 22: Negotiating

**Chapter Twenty- Two: Negotiating**

Oromis looked around the medium-sized study, whilst he waited for Proximo. The room was much too cluttered for Oromis' taste; books, weapons and an assortment of personal possessions littered the floor and shelves. The only part of the study that was neat was the desk that Oromis was sat in front of.

Oromis sighed, he loathed the thought of buying a person but he could think of no other way of setting Murtagh free. The rusty hinges of the door alerted Oromis to Proximo's arrival.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Proximo", said Oromis standing to greet his host. The two men shook hands and seated themselves on opposite sides of the desk. For a moment neither man spoke as Oromis got the impression that Proximo was sizing him up before saying anything. After several moments of silence pasted Proximo finally decided to speak,

"So, I understand you are interested in buying my boy-soldier, Mr Vannes." Proximo spoke quietly, using the false name Oromis was using, but his gaze never left Oromis.

"Yes, I believe he would be a valuable asset to an international team of gladiators that I own."

"I see, but you see Mr Vannes, I have no interest in selling my boy-soldier, especially after what happened today. Murtagh is going to make me very rich," Proximo said, not bothering to add _or at least until he earns his freedom._ Oromis pushed down the anger he felt at knowing this man saw Murtagh merely as a money-making franchise rather than a human being, but he knew he had to keep his temper or he would never get Proximo to agree to sell.

"I can offer you a great deal of money for your boy-soldier. Sell him to me and I'll make you as rich as you want", Oromis spoke with a confidence he didn't quite possess; what Oromis said wasn't strictly true, he didn't have the money to fulfil such a promise nor did the Varden; but what else could Oromis say, he was beginning to realize that he had little or nothing to bargain with, Proximo was very much in the driving seat in these negotiations especially after Murtagh's performance in The Colosseum but he had to try.

"I'm afraid that there is nothing you can offer that I don't already have. My boy-soldier can make me richer than you could ever hope to." Proximo smiled as he spoke, and it wasn't a friendly smile either, it was almost predatory. Oromis quickly realized that this slave owner was more than aware that he had the upper hand and had no intention of selling Murtagh; he was simply enjoying playing with Oromis, trying to make him feel small. Oromis tried to think of something, anything he could do to convince Proximo to sell Murtagh but nothing came to mind.

After taking several minutes to think, Oromis decided to try a different strategy.

"I see that you aren't going to sell your boy-soldier, so it would be foolish to keep trying but would you allow me to talk to this gladiator; to congratulate him and tell him that I'm an admirer, just a general chat." Oromis kept his face neutral as Proximo studied him, clearly trying to determine what Oromis' intentions were.

It was five minutes until Proximo decided to answer, clearly haven given it serious thought, "Very well, Mr Vannes. I see no reason why you can't speak to my boy-soldier, but I will give you five minutes with him and no more, that is non-negotiable." Proximo spoke firmly, his tone making it clear that there was no room for arguments. Oromis nodded and secretly thought that he had never meet a human with such a forceful personality, a man who knew what he wanted and would do anything to get it.

Proximo stood and walked out of his study, gesturing to Oromis to follow. He followed Proximo to the basement. The basement was simply one long corridor, lined with barred doors that opened into cells that had no furniture, they were simply bare stone rooms, many of the cells that they walked past were empty; the ones that weren't housed humans terribly malnourished, beaten and bruised. Oromis felt the urge to set them free and he loathed knowing that he had no choice but to suppress the urge, he'd never it make out of Uru'baen if he acted on it, there were too many guards and he was much too close to Galbatorix to risk exposing himself.

"Why are these people here?" asked Oromis.

"They're being punished for trying to escape", Proximo answered dismissively. Oromis decided it would be better not to reply.

After passing at least 20 cells, Oromis was brought to a halt in front of what appeared to be a steel door.

"Five minutes, no more", said Proximo, after a guard had opened the door.

Oromis stepped into the cell and heard the door close behind him. Looking around the cell, Oromis realised that this was unlike the others, chains for chaining the prisoners to the wall by their wrists, lined the wall, a small fire place was set into one wall and iron instruments littered the floor; this, Oromis realised horrified, was a torture room; an interesting choice for Proximo to let this meeting take place. As his eyes roamed the room, they fell on the handsome young man who had been chained to one wall. The man was dressed in a grey tunic and black pants that were ripped, ragged and looked filthy. The young man had dark marks round his stormy grey eyes and his skin was a snowy white. Oromis looked at Murtagh who was stood watching him with suspicion and interest. The deadened, haunted look in his eyes that Oromis had noticed that day in Gilead was still there and even more prominent than before.

"Hello Murtagh. It's good to see you again", Oromis said, he had decided to risk using a little bit of magic to make sure no one could hear their conversation. Murtagh looked at him with great distrust.

"Who are you and what do you want with me?" Murtagh asked harshly. Oromis quickly realised that Murtagh didn't recognize him at all and must know what happened in this room. _He probably thinks I'm someone Galbatorix has sent to torture him_ thought Oromis. Gently he removed the magic that hid his pointed ears and helped to disguise his appearance, as he did so he heard a gasp from Murtagh. Looking up at the nineteen year old, he saw Murtagh looking at him with an expression of shock.

"Oromis?" breathed Murtagh.

"I'm here to help you, Murtagh", Oromis said kindly.

"You can't help me, no one can", Murtagh replied quietly.

"I can, Murtagh, if you'll give me time to find a way to free you, I can save you."

"Why?"

"Because I owe a debt and I intend to repay it." Murtagh was quite for a moment and Oromis got the impression that Murtagh was having an internal struggle.

"Why now? Why save me now? You didn't want to save me before. You sat in your forest and let Galbatorix do what he wanted with me. He killed Tornac because I let you live", Murtagh's voice was raw with pain and guilt and anger were all too clear in his eyes. Oromis for a moment didn't know what to say, as he felt his own sudden surge of guilt; why hadn't he attempted to find a way to save Murtagh and Thorn before? He realized he didn't have an answer.

"Murtagh, I know what Galbatorix has done to you, Thorn told me everything. We want to save you so that you can fight alongside the Varden and help us destroy the King once and for all", said Oromis, speaking gently and choosing his words carefully. But Murtagh's anger seemed to be winning over everything else.

"You want to save me so the Varden can use me, like that rotten King did." Murtagh said furiously, he suddenly looked up suspiciously,

"What do you mean Thorn told you everything?" he demanded.

"Thorn escaped Galbatorix's clutches and came to the Varden for help", explained Oromis; he could see Murtagh trying to decide whether or not to believe him. Oromis could tell that Murtagh desperately wanted to believe him but he had been used once too often and was clearly finding it difficult to trust him.

Murtagh opened his mouth to speak several times but nothing came out. He leaned against the wall and looked exhausted and lost, as if he simply didn't know who to trust anymore.

"There is nothing you can do for me. If Thorn is with you, please take care of him for me if anything happens to me", said Murtagh sounding exhausted.

"I knew of a man who hated the King and wanted to join the Varden to destroy the Empire", said Oromis hating how lost and tired Murtagh looked.

"That man is dead; the King has done his work well. You cannot help me, Oromis because you cannot give me what I want", said Murtagh softly, before Oromis could ask what it was that Murtagh wanted, the young man yelled,

"Guard, this man has finished with me now." Oromis realised that Murtagh had no desire to continue talking with him, he considered staying but Murtagh's body language clearly showed he wasn't interested in continuing their conversation so he lifted the spell of silence and replaced his disguise before knocking on the door to leave, feeling dejected and upset. He looked back at Murtagh and for the first time he realised just how broken Galbatorix's torture had left him. Oromis made a silent promise to himself to fix the broken young man, no matter what.

Murtagh watched Oromis leave, feeling exhausted and lost; he wasn't sure what to make of the elfin Rider, what if he was lying? But the elf had seemed honest and sincere but he had refused the Golden Rider's help because Oromis had offered to set him free and Murtagh knew that he wasn't interested in being free until the King lay dead at his feet, and if the old elf couldn't understand that then he couldn't help Murtagh. But Murtagh was pleased to hear that Thorn was safe or at least he hoped he was. Murtagh wasn't sure how the Varden would take the dragon's presence but if Thorn was with the Varden it seemed Oromis would look out for him and Murtagh had no doubt that if anyone would understand his desire for revenge then it was Thorn. Oromis had been wrong though, Murtagh had never wanted to destroy the Empire, and he still didn't; he just wanted to destroy the man ruling it, and he would even if it was the last thing he ever did, he would make Galbatorix pay.


	23. Chapter 23: A Great Name

**Chapter Twenty-Three: A Great Name**

Apollo looked across at Murtagh sitting opposite him in the slave compound's courtyard. He knew his friend was troubled, that had become more and more obvious. Ever since that Mr Vannes had meet with him, Murtagh had been even more quite than usual. Apollo knew Murtagh had been through a lot, he knew he had suffered horribly at the hands of the King and up to now Murtagh had done well to keep himself together but every human had their breaking point. During their fight with the King's gladiators it was Murtagh who kept them all alive and he had seemed to be doing well despite what he had been through, but his confrontation with the King after that fight and his meeting with Mr Vannes seemed to have given the events of the last few months the opportunity to catch up with Murtagh and now he simply looked exhausted. Apollo was worried for his friend, Murtagh needed to keep going and right now, Apollo knew that Murtagh's desire for revenge seemed to be all that was keeping him going. But Apollo had another worry, Murtagh had made it clear that he wanted to kill Galbatorix and now the King knew where Murtagh was, what was stopping the King from assassinating Murtagh?

"Murtagh, you were the King's Rider, his General?" asked Demetri who was sat next to Murtagh. Ever since their victory in The Colosseum Demetri and the other slaves had started looking up to Murtagh and they had become friends, especially Demetri, who seemed to have taken on the role of bodyguard to Murtagh.

"Yes" replied Murtagh, still looking at the floor with a troubled expression.

"You had many victories? In the North?" asked Demetri with a little smile. This time Murtagh did look up, a small smile lifting the troubled expression from his features; everyone knew Demetri was from the North but he had never said where exactly.

"In many places", Murtagh replied, Demetri laughed and Murtagh continued to smile gently, at his friends.

"Rider", yelled the cook who had a window that opened out on to the courtyard, so that the slaves could enjoy their food outside. Apollo watched Murtagh get up and collect his bowl from the window. Resuming his seat Murtagh looked down into his bowl but didn't eat anything. Apollo watched as Murtagh looked up from his bowl and fixed his gaze on Apollo, who didn't need to hear Murtagh utter words to know that he was worried that his food had been poisoned. Apollo steadily shook his head and seeing this Demetri put his own spoon into Murtagh's bowl and tasted a bit of the broth inside. Apollo and Murtagh watched Demetri carefully and were both shocked when Demetri grabbed his throat and sounded as if he was choking. After seeing their horrified expressions Demetri burst out laughing and Apollo and Murtagh couldn't help but join in.

As their laughter died down, Apollo looked across at Murtagh and was pleased to see him laughing. He decided that he was going to help Murtagh survive. As he watched Murtagh shake his head at Demetri's antics, Apollo remembered the crowd chanting for Murtagh to live and Galbatorix's furious expression, and then the crowd chanting Murtagh's name, and a thought suddenly occurred to him.

"You have a great name, Murtagh. He must kill your name before he kills you", Apollo told Murtagh, who simply looked back with a grateful expression and a slight nod of his head.

Later that night as Apollo and Murtagh lay in the cell they shared, neither man asleep, Apollo decided Murtagh needed someone to confide in.

"Murtagh, are you okay? You've been a little distracted these past few days", said Apollo. Murtagh was silent for some time before he decided to reply.

"I don't know. I want to kill the King but what if I can't do it on my own? I couldn't have survived in The Colosseum without you guys. But going up against the King is dangerous and I can't put any of you in that kind of danger just for me; it's selfish."

Apollo was beginning to realise why Murtagh had been troubled, he knew he couldn't kill the King on his own, Galbatorix had too many guards for that to happen, but Murtagh wasn't comfortable asking slaves to put their lives in danger to help in his revenge.

"Maybe the Varden would be willing to help you, if you could get a message to them? Then you wouldn't have to worry about putting the others in danger." Apollo saw Murtagh wince slightly as he mentioned the Varden.

"What is it?" asked Apollo.

"Do you remember that meeting I had with Mr Vannes?"

"Yeah, what about him?" asked Apollo, wondering what he had to do with this.

"Well, he was part of the Varden and he offered his help to free me and give me the chance to destroy the King with them and I turned them down."

"Why?"

"My anger got the better of me. In the past few months I've been tortured, separated from Thorn, buried the only father I've ever truly known and been sold as a slave. And I haven't had the opportunity to vent the anger, frustration and guilt that comes with all that and when he arrived, I saw it as chance to just let go. He was someone to blame", Murtagh muttered.

"I understand. You reached breaking point and had to let go. Your human, Murtagh, it's natural. But, don't alienate yourself, Murtagh. Remember Galbatorix is the bad guy here. Don't let him win, Murtagh."

"I know and I won't."

A few minutes of silence followed before Apollo spoke again.

"You're a lot stronger than he is, Murtagh. Galbatorix is perverting the truth to justify his cruelty and war against the Varden. He can't break you, remember that. You're not alone, Murtagh."

"Thanks Apollo", Murtagh whispered into the darkness. After ten minutes of silence, Murtagh could hear the steady breathing that told him that Apollo was asleep. Taking several deep breaths, Murtagh thought back on his conversation with Apollo, he thought about that first fight in The Colosseum and then he thought of Thorn and Tornac and he felt a wave of grief wash over him and so for the first time since Tornac's death Murtagh grieved, he sobbed silently into the darkness and let his grief out. After eight long minutes of sobbing quietly into the dark, Murtagh took some deep breaths to calm himself and was surprised at how much better he felt for just letting go. Starring into the darkness, Murtagh found a new resolve, he would kill the King and maybe accepting help from the Varden wasn't such a bad idea. He was still broken but he could hold himself together, he would not let Galbatorix win by seeing how much damage he had caused, he wouldn't give the King that satisfaction. With Apollo's help he could do this. He would not let his anger get the better of him again; instead he would use it to destroy Galbatorix.


	24. Chapter 24: Fury

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Fury**

Slaves and guards, alike, stood in perpetual terror, waiting for Galbatorix's violent fury to wear itself out, and praying the King ignored them. The King's fury was always a sight to behold; as long as you were watching from a safe distance and the King didn't know you were there. One being who was watching the King's fury was a massive black dragon who sat in his usual place in the throne room. Shruikan couldn't remember ever having so much fun, Galbatorix reacted to the slightest criticism from his dragon and it amused Shruikan no end to irritate Galbatorix merely with words.

But after ten or so minutes Shruikan got a little bored with his overly dramatic Rider and instead looked around the throne room to see what damage had been done. At least twelve slaves lay dead, as well as five guards; the dead currently lay scattered all over the floor, their blood making the floor sticky and slippery. The throne lay on its side a good fifty metres from where it had once sat. The map that usually decorated the wall behind Shruikan lay in tatters. Turning his attention to Galbatorix he saw the King was about to unleash his fury on more unsuspecting guards and Shruikan had had enough.

_STOP! _Shruikan yelled so loudly that Galbatorix actually jumped and looked startled before regaining his composure.

_HOW DARE YOU YELL AT ME! I AM THE KING,_ screamed Galbatorix, turning to glare furiously at his dragon.

_And I am your dragon, and you will listen to me now. Your quest to destroy Murtagh has failed on numerous occasions, and each time you try to destroy Murtagh and fail he comes back stronger. Stop this foolish quest now, or I can guarantee that Murtagh will be your downfall. And killing your servants isn't going to help _said Shruikan calmly to the King, not the slightest bit intimidated by Galbatorix's anger.

For several minutes Galbatorix was silent and looked as if he might unleash his fury on Shruikan but after what seemed careful consideration, he visibly calmed down. These mood swings terrified the guards and slaves of Uru'baen, as they could never tell what might set the King off, he wasn't known for his gratitude.

Walking over to Shruikan the King gently placed a hand on his dragon's snout, Shruikan briefly considered biting the King's hand off but that would only enrage the King and he'd just calmed down.

_I thank you for your guidance, Shruikan. But I believe you are wrong, I can break Murtagh and perhaps I am already close to doing so but the boy must die and he will, soon, _and with those words the King walked away from his dragon and left the throne room and the destruction he had caused.

Shruikan watched his Rider leave and thought about what he had said, he had made it sound like he had another plan and Shruikan had no doubt that this plan would fail just like all the others, but the King was too far gone into madness to listen. But although mad Galbatorix wasn't stupid, although Shruikan couldn't help but feel he did a good impression at times. The black dragon knew Galbatorix wouldn't assassinate Murtagh, which would anger the people of Uru'baen, who had taken Murtagh to heart after his performance in the arena. It would also make Galbatorix look like a coward. No, Galbatorix needed Murtagh to die in the arena, but Shruikan knew that this would be harder than the King realised.

Not for the first time Shruikan contemplated just how easy it would be to eat the King and end all this, but if he did that then what would he do for entertainment?


	25. Chapter 25: Risks

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Risks**

Midnight brought silence to the Varden camp. Everyone was enjoying their slumber knowing that the guards on watch would alert them to anything dangerous. The silence of the camp was only disturbed by the sound of patrolling footsteps of the night guard that watched over their sleeping friends; but in the middle of the sleeping army was a large pavilion, whose entrance was guarded by the Nighthawks, Lady Nasuada's personal guard. Inside the pavilion on a bed behind a parting Nasuada starred up at the canvas ceiling above her, unable to join her people in peaceful slumber, though heaven knows she needed it.

But Nasuada simply couldn't empty her mind and lately her mind had been focused entirely on one thing or, more accurately, one person. Since Thorn had joined the Varden Nasuada had spent as much time as possible with the ruby dragon, and at first she told herself that she did it to give some comfort for the clearly distressed dragon; but as time went on Nasuada began to realise that there was a very different reason she spent so much time with Thorn. He was Murtagh's dragon and as such he was as close as Nasuada could get to Murtagh without actually being with him. Murtagh had been all she could think about since Oromis had joined the Varden and talked about freeing him.

Nasuada lay there reflecting on what Oromis had told her that morning, about his trip to The Colosseum to see Proximo and Murtagh. Oromis had said Murtagh was angry with the Varden and had seemed broken. Oromis had been miserable as he had spoken and Nasuada could understand why. Oromis wanted to protect Murtagh and finding him hurt and in pain had caused the elf distress. Along with Eragon, they had tried to think of what to do next but Eragon seemed to think that Murtagh was too stubborn to ask for help but Nasuada disagreed and she knew Oromis did too.

Thinking about what had gone wrong, Nasuada had become certain that Murtagh's words in that cell to Oromis were not the words of a stubborn person but a person who had been abused and hurt so much that he now harboured anger towards a world that had shown him little kindness. Oromis' visit presented Murtagh with an opportunity to vent his anger at the world on someone who wouldn't hurt him for doing so and he had taken it. The more she thought about it the more convinced she was that if she tried talking to Murtagh now that he had vented some of that anger, he would be more receptive to what she had to say. Plus it would give her the chance to see him again.

The hard part Nasuada knew would be convincing the others to let her go to The Colosseum but even if the others refused to help her, she knew that she would go anyway. Murtagh may not have been as stubborn as Eragon believed but Nasuada certainly was.

The following morning Nasuada called Eragon, Saphira, Thorn, Jormunder, Arya, Roran, Queen Islanzadi, Kings Orik and Orrin and Oromis and Glaedr to her pavilion, Elva and Angela also arrived along with the leader of the Urgals. Once everyone was seated around the large table she had for meetings like these, Nasuada took a few deep breaths and gently told them all her plan that she had formed when she should have been sleeping. The occupants of the pavilion listened in astonished silence as their leader spoke, when she had finished it was King Orrin that broke the stunned silence,

"You're mad! You can't just walk into Uru'baen; you'd be arrested as soon as you stepped through the gate!"

"I agree, Nasuada, this plan is madness", said Eragon. Murmurs of agreement followed his words but just as Nasuada was about to defend her plan, someone else did it for her.

"Actually, I don't think it's mad at all, in fact I think its genius", said Elva calmly, her eyes fixed on Nasuada, who gave her a grateful smile.

"I'm surprised you can tell the difference", scoffed King Orrin, but Elva didn't show any signs of having heard the King of Surda and continued,

"Think about it, who's going to look for Nasuada in Uru'baen, when everyone believes she won't go anywhere without her army?"

"The guards at the gate would surely…" Jormunder began but it was Oromis, who cut him off,

"The guards at the gate are waiting for Nasuada to arrive with her army, not all alone. Elva is right no one would think to look for Nasuada entering the capital on her own because as Orrin and Eragon said its madness." Oromis gave Nasuada an encouraging and approving smile and the others disbelieving looks, turned thoughtful. Looking around desperately Jormunder said,

"You can't all actually be considering this, are you, it's a crazy idea!"

"Which is exactly why it might just work; no one expects the unexpected", said Roran. Jormunder looked about to say something when Nasuada stopped him by gently putting a hand on his arm.

"I know you're concerned for my wellbeing, and you want to protect me, but you have to trust me, the way I trust you. I need you to trust me to do what I believe is right. I can do this and I need to know that you believe me, like my father did. He trusted my judgement and I need you to do the same. Please, this is important to me and the Varden as a whole, just believe in me to do something actively useful for once please", said Nasuada, with sincerity and looking Jormunder straight in the eye as she spoke.

"I do trust you and I do believe in you, Nasuada, I always have", Jormunder said quietly, but he raised no more objections.

"You're going to do this no matter what we say aren't you?" asked Arya, looking amused and slightly exasperated. Nasuada simply smiled in response but it was a smile that said yes.

_Do you fully understand and accept the risks that come with your plan, Lady Nasuada? _Asked Glaedr, Nasuada merely nodded.

"Very well then, if you insist on going ahead with this madness, what can we do to help you in this mad scheme of yours?" asked Queen Islanzadi with a resigned sigh.

Nasuada's smile got bigger, she had won.

By the time they had finished planning, night was falling and it was agreed that Nasuada would go through with her idea the next time Murtagh fought. As her friends filed out of the pavilion after wishing her a goodnight, she noticed that Orik was lingering behind and she got the impression that he had something to say to her, privately. He had been quite all through the meeting, choosing to sit in silence. Nasuada had tried to discern how he felt about her plan but his face had shown no expression or emotion throughout.

Within five minutes they were alone and Orik, still sat in his chair, finally spoke,

"Why are you doing this, Nasuada?" His voice was soft but emotionless.

"I'm doing this to give the Varden a chance of destroying the King. An inside man would give us a massive advantage."

"Are you sure that is why you wish to do this? Are you sure that is the _only_ reason you wish to do this?" Orik asked, putting emphasise on the word _only_ and still using that same soft voice.

"If you have something to say King Orik, I would appreciate it if you just got straight to the point, I have things to do", said Nasuada, irritably, not at all liking where this line of questioning was going.

"Very well, I believe you are doing this because you have feelings for that traitor and you wish to rescue him!" growled Orik, sounding furious and finally looking at Nasuada, rather than down at the table. Nasuada looked back at the dwarf for a few minutes, and though she never lost her calm exterior, internally she was furious.

"You're right, King Orik, I do have feelings for Murtagh and I do wish to rescue him but that is not the _only _reason I wish to do this. His help really would be invaluable to the Varden's cause and already has. It is thanks to Murtagh that Oromis and Glaedr are still alive and with the Varden, bringing priceless knowledge and help. Thorn has also been an invaluable help, and I would remind you he is Murtagh's dragon", Nasuada said, calmly but with anger creeping into her voice as she spoke.

_Yes he is_ said a deep voice. Both Nasuada and Orik jumped, neither had noticed Thorn still lying in the entrance for the dragons and staring furiously at Orik, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

_You say Nasuada wants to rescue Murtagh simply because she has feelings for him and yet, you don't want Murtagh rescued simply because you are angry that he killed your predecessor, but perhaps you would have been happy had he not killed the Dwarf King and killed Nasuada instead. You are being a hypocrite, dwarf and I don't like hypocrites. If Nasuada wants to rescue Murtagh then she has every right to do so, for her plan risks no one's life but her own. _

Orik was silent for a moment before stalking out of the pavilion with a sound of annoyance. He wasn't stupid enough to argue with a fire-breathing dragon, which Thorn considered a little disappointing as that dwarf was really starting to annoy him and he would have liked a reason to either eat him or fry him. Nasuada, on the other hand, watched Orik leave with faint amusement before turning to the ruby dragon.

"Thank you, Thorn; I appreciate what you just said."

_You are welcome, Nasuada. I didn't like the way he was talking to you; he should show more respect._

Nasuada smiled and after wishing Thorn good night she climbed into bed and, inevitably, thought of Murtagh. Softly speaking into the darkness, she said,

"Good night Murtagh, I'll be seeing you soon. I promise." And with that, for the first time in months, Lady Nasuada drifted off into a dreamless sleep. 


	26. Chapter 26: Outnumbered

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Outnumbered**

The Colosseum was packed once again. The noise seemed to fill every inch of the massive structure. Everyone was so focused on the handsome young man standing in the centre of the arena that no one noticed the hooded figure slip quietly into an empty seat. The figure's face couldn't be seen as the hood covered it in shadow, in fact little could be seen of the figure as every inch of their body was covered. It was impossible to say what this person was thinking as they looked in the direction of the arena but it was clear that they were watching the man in the centre of the arena as their head moved with the man, following his every movement.

The handsome young man in the arena was, of course, Murtagh and right now, he was confused. He had been put in the arena to fight an opponent chosen by Galbatorix, well Murtagh had been in the arena for a good five minutes and he was still alone. Looking over to the Royal box where the King was sitting, Murtagh frowned when he saw the malicious smile on Galbatorix's face, clearly the King knew something he didn't, and whatever it was, was clearly giving the King great pleasure; which was bad news for Murtagh.

_He's playing with me! _Murtagh realised. He had been left here to wonder and stress over what was coming, it was a mind game, the King was playing, trying to put Murtagh at a psychological disadvantage. The King may have been mad but he was also very clever. As he continued to wait Murtagh tried to put himself in the King's shoes, if he was Galbatorix what would he do? Murtagh shuddered as all manner of nightmarish images entered his mind. Galbatorix was a sociopath and took great pleasure in watching others suffer, Murtagh knew that from experience; which meant that whatever was about to come out of those gates was designed to end his life and painfully.

Galbatorix made Murtagh and the crowd wait a total of eight minutes to see what he would face; time Murtagh spent trying to dispel the terrifying scenarios that fear presented to him, fear really can be a dangerous thing when left to roam freely in a person's mind. The gates opened at a gesture from the King and out from them poured gladiators but not four or five, there were dozens of them. Murtagh could do nothing as 50 gladiators surrounded him; looking closely at them Murtagh saw two distinct groups. Half of his opponents were professional gladiators, as was made clear to Murtagh by the polished armour they wore, the gleaming swords they carried and the way in which they stood and carried themselves. The other half was made up of what Murtagh guessed were prisoners of Galbatorix, due to the dirty rags they wore, their ill-suited weapons and the mad look in their eyes. These were prisoners that had been subjected to torture in the King's prison, driven into madness and as such, they were unpredictable and all the more dangerous for it.

Murtagh wasn't stupid, he knew the chance of him killing all of his opponents was slim; if he was going to survive he needed to make them hesitate and doubt themselves, use fear in his favour. If he could make them fear him enough to hesitate in their attack, he could buy himself a little more time, but to do that he had to attack immediately and eradicate as many enemies as possible. So without a second's doubt and yelling a fierce war cry Murtagh ran at the gladiator's right in front of him. His attack took them by surprise, after all who was mad enough to willingly take on 50 gladiators alone? Well Murtagh was and he didn't even stop in his stride as he decapitated the first gladiator he reached, and quickly brought his sword round to take the head of another. By this point his opponents shock had worn off but they didn't all attack together; only those who were close to Murtagh attacked, their numbers meant they had to fight so many at a time for fear of accidentally killing one of their own, Murtagh was the enemy after all.

Swinging his sword with deadly precision, Murtagh dispatched gladiator after gladiator, many lost their heads, many had Murtagh's sword plunged into their abdomen and then quickly removed, whilst others had their throats slit. Murtagh himself was quickly amassing a number of cuts and bruises, but his adrenalin fueled body barely felt it; he focused simply on putting everything Tornac had ever taught him into the fight. As Murtagh quickly removed his sword from an opponents gut, he realised that all the gladiators he had dealt with so far were prisoners, the professionals seemed to be hanging back. As he removed the sword arm of a prisoner on his left and spun round, his sword moving with him to slice a prisoner behind him in half, Murtagh used the small part of his mind that wasn't focused purely on dispatching opponents, to work out how he was doing. So far, although he was covered in blood, only a dozen men lay at his feet; all of them Galbatorix's prisoners. They were the ones who had attacked first, without thought. The professional gladiator's, however, where holding back, letting Murtagh exhaust himself on mad prisoners who had little or no fighting experience; all the while, studying Murtagh's technique and working out how best to kill him.

Within five minutes of the fight beginning, Murtagh had eliminated the threat of the prisoners. With little fighting experience and driven on purely by madness, they had been the easy ones to deal with, although their unpredictability had left Murtagh with his fair share of cuts and bruises. However, not all of them were dead, some were simply incapable of fighting anymore; some were missing arms and others were missing legs; a result of Murtagh having to duck wildly swinging swords, spears and axes. Madness had made their reaction times slow, so whilst they were wondering where their enemy had gone, Murtagh had seen an opportunity to eliminate them and took it, taking the legs of at least five opponents at once.

Standing, his bloody sword in hand, Murtagh found himself surrounded by the prisoner's Galbatorix had cruelly placed in the ring. Sixteen of them were dead, eight were rolling around clutching severed limbs and sobbing hysterically, and one was laying on the arena floor clutching his severed leg and mumbling rapidly to himself. Murtagh looked down at the man with pity, and suddenly realised that he was just a boy of about seventeen; only two years younger than Murtagh. What had this poor boy done to deserve torture and then this? Murtagh knew the answer was probably nothing; he was no doubt in the wrong place at the wrong time, like so many of Galbatorix's victims. Feeling a sudden rush of anger at the injustice of the world he lived in, Murtagh turned to face the professional gladiators who were waiting for him. He understood that the prisoners had been sent like lambs to the slaughter, and it infuriated Murtagh that the King could treat people like animals and expect to get away with it. Feeling all of his anger and hatred for the King emerge, Murtagh decided it was time to let some of those feelings go.

As he walked towards the gladiators, who had formed a semi-circle in the clean half of the arena, Murtagh bent to pick up a second sword dropped by one of the poor souls he was leaving behind, but he never took his eyes of the men who were waiting patiently for him. Murtagh couldn't hear the crowd cheering, he couldn't hear their screams of encouragement; his fury was focused directly on the men he was slowly approaching, like a predator stalking his prey.

The gladiators watched Murtagh slowly stalk towards them, and felt a slither of apprehension. They had just watched Murtagh despatch the prisoners with a deadly precision that they had never seen before. But what was really disturbing them now was the look in Murtagh's eyes. For in the depths of Murtagh's stormy grey eyes was a mixture of fury, mercilessness and madness. They had all heard the stories about what the King had done to Murtagh. Just how close had Murtagh come to being like the poor souls he had killed, they wondered.

Murtagh saw their hesitation and he smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile, it was the smile of a predator that was closing in on his pray; the gladiators took an involuntarily step back. When he was just 50 metres away he unleashed a terrible war cry and charged at his enemy. The gladiators knew they should run to meet him but none of them were willing to meet the furious young man first, so they didn't move and within seconds, Murtagh was upon them.

Swinging his swords round in a scissor motion, Murtagh quickly decapitated two gladiators and didn't waste time in slitting the throat of a third. When the gladiators tried to enclose Murtagh in a tight circle to make it difficult for him to fight, Murtagh dropped to the floor and turning on his heels in a circle, with his swords swinging he removed the legs of those trying to enclose him. As they went down screaming in agony, Murtagh sprang to his feet and continued to take down his enemies; acting on pure instinct alone; he had ceased thinking and was letting his soldiering instinct and his anger take control. Armour counted for nothing as he sliced through his opponents, either killing them or incapacitating them, leaving them writhing in agony on the floor. Murtagh was merciless and when he was the only one left standing he observed the chaos he had wrought. Galbatorix had sent 50 men into the ring to kill Murtagh, now 32 of those men lay dead; the remaining 18 where rolling around on the floor, either with missing limbs or severe wounds, one was trying desperately to stuff his intestines back into his body.

Turning away from the destruction he had caused, he faced the Royal box. Never taking his eyes off Galbatorix, who was watching him with barely contained fury, he bent down and picked up a spear. Still looking at the King, Murtagh drew back his arm and prepared to throw, as he did so the crowd gasped; was Murtagh really going to throw the spear at the King? Galbatorix certainly seemed to think so, and yet, he never took his eyes off Murtagh and his expression told everyone that he wasn't the least bit afraid of the slave before him. Murtagh didn't hesitate; he threw the spear with all the force he could muster.

"Is that the best you can do, slave? You missed", laughed Galbatorix as the spear went past the right side of his head.

"I didn't miss," replied Murtagh. Frowning, the King looked to his right and roared with fury at what he saw; for there in her seat was his Black Hand, with Murtagh's spear imbedded in-between her eye's, pinning her to her chair.

Galbatorix turned back to Murtagh, who smiled that predatory smile and then bowed mockingly to the King, before turning his back on him. The King could hear the whispers of the crowd as they took in what they had just witnessed. Murtagh had just murdered the King's right hand man (or woman in this case), mocked the King and then turned his back on him. From a slave such behaviour was unprecedented, and what was more he was getting away with it. Galbatorix knew that if he killed Murtagh right now, it would look like spite and further fuel the sounds of revolution he could hear in the air. No, he had to be careful about how he handled this.

Meanwhile, Murtagh returned to the centre of the arena, his anger and adrenalin was starting to subside. As he picked up the sword that he had entered with, he felt a presence touch his mind, he immediately set up steel barriers around his mind, until he realised that he recognised the presence. Lowering his defences, slightly, Murtagh heard Shruikan say,

_Well done, brave one. You have truly annoyed and infuriated the King, and given me ample opportunities to irritate him, for that I thank you._

Smiling at the amusement he heard, Murtagh replied,

_No problem, although I'm sure you'd have found ways to annoy the hell out of Galbatorix anyway; you always did._

Shruikan merely laughed in reply.

After Murtagh felt the black dragon leave his mind he became suddenly aware of the crowd chanting his name and watching his every move; no doubt wondering what he intended to do next. But Murtagh was exhausted and looking around at the prisoners that lay scattered on one side of The Colosseum floor, he felt a wave of sadness wash over him. He knew he had gained a victory today, but he felt no pleasure in it. After all, war was hell and Murtagh knew that was what he and Galbatorix were fighting, and while the King might get pleasure from watching and causing innocents to suffer, Murtagh didn't. A noise behind him drew his attention away from his victims and as he watched the gates to the arena open and the King's personal guard pour out he sensed that this battle wasn't over yet.


	27. Chapter 27: Persuasion

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Persuasion**

The crowd were so silent you could hear the wind rustling through the arena; all eyes were fixed on the two Riders, who were stood in the arena surrounded by the King's personal guard. So quiet was The Colosseum that the crowd could hear what was being said below. And they listened with great intent.

Down on the arena floor Murtagh watched with a weary apprehension as Galbatorix slowly circled him. The King had a curious expression and was studying Murtagh, as a person would study a very interesting experiment. He didn't look mad anymore as he had when Murtagh murdered the Black Hand, which worried Murtagh. He hated that he could never guess what the King was thinking, Galbatorix's mind was a mystery to Murtagh and a large part of him wanted it to stay that way, but a small part of him couldn't help but wonder as to what went on in the King's to make him do the things he did.

Murtagh could feel his exhaustion beginning to take hold, he knew he wouldn't last if the King decided to attack, but the King had made no move to hurt Murtagh, not yet anyway.

"Oh, Murtagh, how did we come to this?" the King asked whilst sighing as if tired and looking at Murtagh sadly. Murtagh watched the King closely but still couldn't guess his intentions, so he decided to remain silent, for now.

"As a King, I'm expected to make the right decisions all the time, but as a human I am susceptible to making mistakes and I have made many when it concerns you, my boy." The King spoke with a gentle, fatherly tone, and as he circled Murtagh he gently placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at Murtagh with an expression that spoke of regret and remorse.

Still Murtagh stayed silent.

"I understand why you're angry and I don't blame you."

Still Murtagh said nothing but his body language had changed; his once slumped, weary figure had tensed. Galbatorix was stood in front of him now, that same expression of guilt and remorse on his face, and slowly he put both hands on Murtagh's shoulders, looking him straight in the eye and spoke,

"I am so sorry for everything, Murtagh, truly I am. I wish I could go back and change things but I can't."

Murtagh looked Galbatorix straight in the eye as he spoke; his body was now a rigid statue. He remained silent.

"I beg you, Murtagh, give me a second chance. Let me be the father you've always wanted, the father you deserve. Come home to be my soldier once more. All is forgiven, forgotten. We could be great you and I. We could rule this land together, with me as King and you the head of the new Riders. What do you say?" Galbatorix's voice had become sweet and persuasive, gently painting a picture with his speech. It was a voice Murtagh had heard before and more than once, but the first time he heard it, a year ago, he was eighteen, and he and the King were having dinner. It had been the night the King told Murtagh of his grand plan to restore the Riders and Murtagh had listened and believed, but not this time.

As he listened to the King's words, Murtagh kept his eyes locked on the King's and although his words and expression spoke of remorse and regret, Murtagh could see in Galbatorix's eyes that this man was incapable of remorse, regret and compassion. Galbatorix cared for no one but himself. His words and promises were empty; King Galbatorix was a psychopath and a very dangerous one at that, but that meant he was not able to feel bad for the things he had done, and it made him incapable of stopping his cruel acts. Murtagh understood that now.

If the King thought the tricks he had used on Murtagh before were going to work, then he was sadly mistaken, Murtagh was not the same man. His experiences had changed him but whether those changes were for better or worse, Murtagh didn't know yet; but he was not susceptible to the King's mind games any more.

Thinking of all he had suffered at the hands of the man before him, he decided that it was time to give his answer. Slowly taking a few steps back so that the King was no longer touching him, Murtagh never took his eyes off the King, who gently offered his hand as a sign of reconciliation. Murtagh looked at the hand and no longer caring about the consequences, he spat onto the King's outstretched palm, before giving a mocking bow and saying,

"Long live the King", with all the sarcasm he could muster.

Leaving the crowds gasps of astonishment and Galbatorix's incredulous look behind him, Murtagh made his way to the gates to take him back to his friends and fellow slaves, a small smile creeping on to his face, as he heard Shruikan's laughter in his head; he had won this battle with the King and Galbatorix knew, now, that this was not the boy whose true name he stole. Murtagh was tougher and more deadly than ever before and Murtagh hoped the King was scared, because Murtagh wouldn't stop until the King lay dead at his feet.

Up in the stands, the hooded figure gently rose and made their way to the exit, listening to the whisperings of the crowd; all the talk was about the slave, Murtagh, who was defying the King and the King seemed incapable of stopping him. Was the King losing his touch? Maybe he wasn't as dangerous as they had been led to believe; maybe he had been sat on his throne for too long.

The more the hooded figure heard, the happier they became. Revolution was in the air in Uru'baen and, although no one could see it, the figure smiled as they made their way to the slave compound and the study of Proximo.


	28. Chapter 28: Long Time, No See

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Long Time, No See**

Proximo studied the hooded figure before him carefully but he couldn't say who this person was and they clearly didn't want him to know; nothing he said would convince the person to remove their hood and he was certain they were trying to disguise their voice by trying to make it deeper.

"Why do you want to talk to my boy-soldier?" he asked, suspiciously. Silence greeted his question and he realized he probably wasn't going to get an answer.

"That is my business," replied the stranger. Well, at least not an answer he liked. Reaching into an inside pocket, the stranger produced a large leather money pouch and placed it on Proximo's desk.

"I am, of course, willing to pay handsomely for the privilege of speaking with your boy-soldier," said the stranger.

Now, Proximo was not a complicated man and he was dominated by one feeling; Greed. Proximo would do anything for the right price, so if this stranger wanted to talk to his boy-soldier, what harm could it do?

"Very well, you may speak with him. Given your generosity I will allow you ten minutes alone with my boy-soldier, as you have requested." The stranger said nothing, but merely bowed their head in response.

"The guard will show you the way", said Proximo, sitting down and beginning to count his newly acquired money.

* * *

><p>"You know there are easier ways to commit suicide, Murtagh," said Apollo, as he stitched up a cut on Murtagh's hip, whilst the Red Rider lay on his bed in their cell.<p>

"I don't want to commit suicide, Apollo, I was just mad and you know how bad I am at controlling my temper, especially when it comes to the King," replied Murtagh, wincing slightly as Apollo continued to stitch his wound together. Looking down at his friend, Murtagh could see the doubtful expression on Apollo's face. Sighing, Murtagh decided to change the subject,

"Don't you ever get tired of stitching people back together again, especially me?"

Apollo laughed,

"No, brother, I don't. When I was a healer, I enjoyed my work. I enjoyed seeing the relief and pleasure on their faces when they knew they were going to be okay. I enjoy taking away other people's pain, not causing it", Apollo replied, sounding nostalgic.

"Being a gladiator must be hard for you," said Murtagh, looking at his friend with sympathy.

"Yes; I don't enjoy fighting, but I understand it is what I have to do to survive. I don't like it but it's necessary."

Murtagh was about to offer his new brother some comfort but was stopped when a guard opened their cell door.

"Rider, you have a visitor, let's go," said the guard. Murtagh looked at Apollo curiously but Apollo merely shrugged and gave an encouraging nod. As Murtagh walked towards the door, Apollo gently grabbed his arm to stop him and whispered,

"No matter who it is, try and control your temper. Listen to them; consider it practice for the next time you face the King." Murtagh nodded and followed the guard out of his cell, wondering who it was that wanted to see him.

* * *

><p>The guard led Murtagh to the same torture cell that he had meet Oromis in. Once more his wrists were put in chains and then the guard simply left. At first Murtagh wondered why he had been left in here alone, where was his visitor? Did he even have a visitor, or had he been brought down here to be punished for what he did in the arena?<p>

As Murtagh's mind began to run wild with possibilities, the door to the cell opened once more and Murtagh half expected Galbatorix to enter, instead a hooded figure came in and stood a few feet away from Murtagh. He heard the figure take a deep breath before removing the hood.

Looking at the person in front of him, Murtagh felt as if the breath had been knocked out of his body. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

"Nasuada?" asked Murtagh incredulously, staring at the beautiful young woman who stood before him.

"Hello Murtagh; long time, no see," said Nasuada, giving him a weak smile.

"What are you doing here? Are you insane, if the King finds out you're here…" Murtagh didn't finish, he couldn't.

"I know the risks I take by coming here, but I had too", said Nasuada, speaking quietly.

"Why?"

"Because you were right, we should have tried harder to find you that day under Farthen Dur, but we didn't. We didn't even try to find your body when we thought you were dead, if we had, maybe we could have found you and the Twins. Maybe we could have saved you. If we had you would never have suffered at the hands of the King, and I am so sorry, I really am." Nasuada spoke quickly and with passion and by the end she was fighting to stop herself from bursting into tears.

Murtagh looked at Nasuada and he knew from her tone that she spoke the truth. A part of Murtagh was telling him he should be angry at this woman but a larger part wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and comfort her.

"You came here; you took the risk of being captured by the King, just so you could apologize to me?" Murtagh asked with disbelief.

"No, there was another reason I came here," Nasuada confessed.

"Yeah I thought so, so what is it you want?" Murtagh asked, closing his eyes as if in pain. Of course she came for another reason; she wouldn't come just to say sorry to him. After steadying his breathing he opened his eyes again to find Nasuada looking at him with guilt and pity. When he saw the pity in her eyes, he found he couldn't look at her anymore and switched his gaze to the floor.

"I have come up with a plan to take Uru'baen and stop the King, but if it is to work, we will need your help; without you my plan won't work. Will you hear it?" Nasuada asked, hopefully. Murtagh was silent whilst he thought about what Nasuada had said; maybe she could give him the chance to strike at the King. Slowly looking up he starred Nasuada in the eye and saw the guilt still there but the pity had been replaced by a hopefulness that tugged on his heart. He heard Apollo's voice in his head telling him to listen. He made up his mind.

"Tell me your plan."

Nasuada spoke quickly but clearly so that Murtagh understood what she wanted him to do. As Nasuada outlined her plan, Murtagh listened intently, nodding occasionally; it was a good plan, and had a good chance of success, but only if Murtagh agreed to help.

Once she had finished, she watched Murtagh carefully as he contemplated her plan. Hesitantly she took a step closer to him, and placed a hand gently on his chest right where his heart was. Taken aback by the gentle touch, it took Murtagh several seconds to speak.

"It…It's a good plan, My Lady," he said, quietly.

"Will you help us? Will you help me?" she asked him, speaking softly and always looking him in the eye. Murtagh's breath caught as he realised just how close Nasuada was. He could smell the lavender scent of her hair and, if he was being honest it was a little distracting. But nevertheless he had already made his decision.

"Yes I will help you, I will do what I can to help make your plan work; on one condition," he said. Nasuada gave him a questioning look, but deep down she already knew what Murtagh wanted; she could see it in his eyes, which had taken on a steely determination.

"I want to kill the King myself," he said with fierce conviction.

"Very well, if you help us, I swear that I'll make sure you are the one to end the King's life."

"Thank you, My Lady."

Nasuada stepped closer,

"Murtagh, I…"

"Time's up," yelled a guard, interrupting her. She quickly put her hood up and with one last glance at Murtagh; she departed following the guard out. Murtagh watched her leave and couldn't help but feel an ache in his chest as he did so; he hoped that she got back to the Varden safely, because without her the Varden wouldn't stand a chance and, a part of him felt, nether would he.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, in the Throne room, Galbatorix sat on his throne deep in thought, as he tried to come up with a solution to the problem that went by the name Murtagh Morzansson. He couldn't understand it; Morzan never caused him problems like this, if only Murtagh was more like his father, life would be much simpler.<p>

As he pondered the problem of Murtagh, a guard entered and stood nervously by the base of the throne. The King toyed with the idea of simply letting the guard stand there in fear, but his presence was beginning to annoy the King.

"Speak," Galbatorix said, lazily.

"Your Majesty, Proximo wishes to speak with you. He says he has information that would be beneficial to you."

Galbatorix sat up in his throne at that. Proximo, Murtagh's master, had information that would benefit the King?

"Send him in." The guard disappeared at the King's command and returned seconds later with Proximo. Bowing low to the King, Proximo didn't waste time in getting to the point,

"My King, I have _valuable _information that I believe would be very useful to you," he said, putting emphasise on the word "valuable".

Galbatorix smiled, men like Proximo weren't difficult to understand; he knew what this man wanted.

"I assure you, Proximo, that you will be handsomely rewarded for your time and information. Now tell me what do you know?"

"Well, My King, my boy-soldier received an _interesting_ visitor this afternoon…"


End file.
